


The Return to Wellington

by Ithiliana



Series: Behind the Scenes [4]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: BDSM, Lotrips - Freeform, M/M, Power Play, Roleplay, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-27
Updated: 2009-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-03 20:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiliana/pseuds/Ithiliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dedicated to the ones who cheered me on in comments (this started as comment fic!): Caras_Galadhon, Castalie (especially the leather straps!), Fiverly, French_Hobbit, Greedy_Dancer, Justinetre, Languoreth, Lilithilien, Ribby, Rohandove, and Savageseraph.  So inspiring!</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Return to Wellington

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the ones who cheered me on in comments (this started as comment fic!): Caras_Galadhon, Castalie (especially the leather straps!), Fiverly, French_Hobbit, Greedy_Dancer, Justinetre, Languoreth, Lilithilien, Ribby, Rohandove, and Savageseraph. So inspiring!

**Wellington Day One**

"Thanks."

David took the handful of envelopes the clerk at the desk handed him after completing the check-in. David shuffled through them until he found the one with Viggo's handwriting on the front. Stuffing the others in his pocket, he collected the keycard to his official room, picked up his bag, and crossed the lobby to the elevator.

Waiting for an elevator, he ripped open the envelope and found a keycard folded inside a sheet of paper with "1307" written on it. He carried his bag into the elevator along with three other people. He had to use the keycard to get to the 13th floor. The other people exited on earlier floors. 

When the elevator doors opened, he lifted his bag, stepped out of the elevator, found the room information, and turned left. The hallway was the typical anonymous hotel one, and it took him only a few moments to arrive at the room.

The keycard worked the first time, and he entered, letting the door swing shut behind him. The hallway before him opened onto a sitting room, chairs and a large leather couch arranged in front of a fireplace that featured a large floral arrangement and no fire. A small kitchen area was to his left, and to his right, he saw a closed door. 

"Viggo?"

No answer.

David crossed to the door and opened it. He saw a bedroom with a king size bed, desk, chair, nightstand, and another closed door behind which he could hear water running.

Well. David set his bag down next to the closet and sat on the bed. Should he join Viggo in the shower? David thought about it, then dismissed the idea. The one time he'd tried to have sex in the shower, he'd ended up half drowned. Not something he wanted to experience again.

However, there was this very large and comfortable bed. David bounced a couple of times, then stood, opened his bag, and dug through the contents until he found the case with his toiletries. He unzipped it and found the lube. When he pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand, he smiled when he saw another tube already there. He stripped off his clothes, tossed them onto the chair by the desk, and then pulled back the bedding.

After some reflection, he turned off two of the three lamps in the room, then made his way back to the bed and slid between the cool sheets, choosing the side closest to the bathroom door. Lying on his back, David waited for what soon began to feel like an unreasonably long time. He told himself that his showers were probably seen the same way, especially when he used up all the hot water.

Finally, the sound of the running water stopped. David shifted under the covers. The bathroom door opened onto steam. Viggo, a towel wrapped around his waist, stood in the doorway.

"David."

Viggo's hair was cut short, and he was clean shaven. His voice was the same, smoky-gold, a timbre that somehow went right down David's spine, but he looked different. The cut showed a touch of grey in his hair, and the shape of his face without the beard was more definite, stronger.

Taking the few steps necessary, Viggo tossed the bedding onto the floor and reached down to David. David ran his hands up Viggo's arms, the damp smoothness cool to his touch, gripped and then pulled down, catching Viggo off balance. The flurry of movement resulted in Viggo lying across David, braced on one arm. David smiled, but before he could speak, Viggo kissed him.

No gentleness here, the kiss was hot and deep, Viggo's hand holding David's head, his arms sliding around Viggo's waist to pull him closer. David opened his mouth, demanding, feeling the roughness of the towel against his cock. Viggo's skin was damp, his hair wet under David's seeking hands.

Viggo rose off David and opened the nightstand drawer. David shoved the pillows aside and reached to tug off the towel Viggo was wearing. But when David started to roll over, Viggo stopped him, turning him on his back. Sliding a leg between David's, pushing his legs apart, Viggo knelt between them and shoved a pillow under his hips. 

Seeing Viggo unscrewing the tube, David said, "Let me," holding out his hand. Viggo squeezed the lube onto David's hand. David rubbed his hands together, then reached to take Viggo's cock between his two slick hands. Shutting his eyes, David breathed deeply as he relished the growing hardness, the way he could feel Viggo's response to each touch, every motion. 

Viggo thrust forward as David smoothed his hands down the shaft, breathed unevenly as David slid one hand in between his legs. When David pressed further, Viggo gripped David's wrists and pulled his hands apart, forcing his arms down onto the bed, then released him. David opened his eyes, grinned at Viggo, and stretched his arms over his head. A slight shift allowed him to hold onto the bottom bar of the brass headboard. 

When David wrapped his legs around Viggo's, he responded, sliding down, pushing his arms under David's shoulders to hold him, thrusting harder, pumping, the new position sending waves of pleasure through David. Gritting his teeth, he moved in time with Viggo, arching his back. Sweat slicked their skins.

Clenching, David felt pleasure build, higher and higher, resonating through him, more and more centering in his cock. Releasing the headboard, he grabbed Viggo, trying to pull him closer, his hands slipping over damp skin and hard muscle. Viggo nearly withdrew, paused, and, as David moaned a protest, snapped his hips, thrusting in harder and deeper.

Pleasure rolled through David as he came, wetness trapped between their bodies. As David tensed, then went limp, Viggo leaned down, resting on David's body, lips closing on David's neck, continuing to move. Languid under him, David luxuriated in how each motion intensified his pleasure. David let his arms fall away, but kept his legs tight around Viggo until he finally bit hard on David's neck, coming deep inside.

Lying under the warm weight, David smiled. It had been too long.

Finally, Viggo stirred slightly. "I'm going to need another shower," he said, running a hand through David's hair.

"Why?" David asked, winding an arm around Viggo and holding him as he tried to roll off.

"I'm meeting Bernard and Miranda, maybe Karl, for drinks." Viggo relaxed against David again, continued speaking, his voice muffled against David's neck. "You want to join us? I don't know when Sean's due exactly, but we can leave him a note."

David was tempted. He had not talked to Miranda since they had filmed their last scene together. And Karl was always fun to hang out with. Bernard intimidated him , he hadn't spoken to him during the filming, given their schedules and separate narrative lines.

But David was also feeling loose and heavy-limbed. Just lying in bed seemed the best idea of all. The effort of getting up and ready to go out seemed too much. And they'd all be here for some days. 

"Thanks, but, no. I think I'll just stay here."

"We can order from room service when I get back," Viggo said. "If that's okay."

"Mmm-hmmm."

"So, I'll just go down by myself," Viggo said, still not moving.

"Unless you want to ask them to come up here," David said, keeping his voice and face straight with some effort.

Viggo lifted himself, shifting to hold David's head in both hands, leaning close, blue eyes intent.

"A tempting thought," he said. "But, I think not." He kissed David as hard and urgently as he had earlier, and David shuddered as his body tried to respond. 

Viggo pulled away, slightly, spoke softly, his mouth still close to David's. "I'll be thinking about you lying up here in bed the whole time I'm gone. So I hope you're awake when I get back."

"No promises," David said. "I was thinking about taking a nap."

"Then I might just have to test Sean's theory."

"What?" 

Viggo released David, rolled off him and out of bed in one easy movement. He stood, stretching, and David admired the springing line of his spine, from neck to back to hips, as he walked.

Before he went into the bathroom, Viggo turned and said, "Sean has a theory about just what he might be able to do while you're asleep that he's been wanting to test ever since that time in England. I'd never let him test it before, but…"

Viggo ducked when David threw a pillow at him. Laughing, Viggo shut the bathroom door.

David heard the water start again. He had to crawl to the bottom of the bed to retrieve the bedding which had been kicked off earlier. He moved to the other side of the bed to avoid the wrinkles and the dampness. He lay back on the two remaining pillows and wondered what luck he'd have in getting either Viggo or Sean to tell him about Sean's theory. 

After Viggo left, David drifted, half-asleep, half-awake, half dreaming, and if that was too many halves, he didn't care. Body loose and warm, he was content to rest in the quiet of the dimly lit room and did not notice as dim light faded into darkness.

"David."

Turning onto his side, David burrowed deeper into the pillows, pulling the covers over his head.

"David!"

The covers were ruthlessly pulled away, and a warm hand settled on David's shoulder, pulling him over onto his back.

David forced his eyes half open and saw Sean sitting next to him. That was nice.

"David," Sean shook him gently then released him. "I assume you're alive."

Stretching and yawning, David rolled onto his side, facing Sean, and smiled. "More or less," he said. "You're here."

"Obvious but coherent," Sean said. "Better than usual at this stage. Where's Viggo?"

David yawned again. He really had been asleep. "Out for drinks. With Bernard, Miranda and maybe Karl. He'll be coming back here. We thought we could have room service for dinner. Later."

Sean was wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, comfortably well-worn. David realized his hair was much longer than it had been before, falling over his forehead, curling down to his shoulders in back.

"So Viggo was in the room when you got here?" Sean asked.

David, confused, nodded. 

"And?"

"And what?"

Sean reached over to lay his hands on David's shoulders, pushed him over onto his back again, and leaned down to take a kiss, warm and wet, the soft cotton shirt rubbing against his chest. Flattened against the pillow, David twisted against the strong hands, felt Sean's weight on him increase, felt himself hardening in response.

Ending the kiss, Sean said, "And what happened? I don't believe you just had a nice chat with Viggo about his plans for the evening and then decided to take a nap."

"What do you think happened?" David raised one eyebrow.

"I think he fucked you." Sean's voice was low, his eyes steady on David's face.

David nodded.

"Did he tie you up first?"

"Nope," David said. "You know Viggo. He doesn't pack toys."

Sean shook his head. "One can always hope for reform." Sean's hand moved up, palm against David's face. "So would you like to be tied up?"

"What, no cuffs?" David rubbed his cheek against Sean's hand, feeling the calluses, if anything more than before from his work on _Troy_.

"I don't have my full kit with me. I didn't have a chance to go home first," Sean said. "This whole thing isn't exactly official, you know. So I booked the cheapest flight possible."

"But you had the ropes with you?"

"Light, easily packed, and rarely causes any questions in Customs," Sean said. "I have a few other things as well. And, if you recall, I bought those ropes for you and never got to tie you up. I think you owe me one."

David reached up, slid his arm around Sean's neck, and pulled him down onto the bed for another kiss, rolling over enough to slide a leg over Sean's, thrusting against the worn denim. Prolonging the kiss as long as he could, David pressed close to Sean then finally lay back, still holding onto him. 

"I still say I'm not to blame for your characters wanting to be tied up," he said firmly. "But that doesn't matter now. Get the ropes."

Sean smiled blindingly down at him, kissed him quickly, then stood. David sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Where are you going?" Sean asked, busy with his suitcase.

"Bathroom," David said.

Sean turned and looked at him, the silvery-grey ropes in his hands. "Don't take one of your showers," he said. 

David hadn't intended to but thought it was an odd thing to say. "What, you don't want to wait that long?" he teased.

Sean crossed the room to stand by the bed, dropped the ropes beside David. He knelt, sliding his arms around David, leaning close. David tilted his head back as he felt Sean's mouth, then tongue, velvet rough, on the skin of his chest. Slowly, Sean ran his tongue up David's chest, along his throat and shoulder, then sucked, hard, hands moving on his back. 

"It's not that," he said, lips moving against David's skin. "I just want you like this, warm from bed, warm from fucking, smelling like Viggo's sweat and yours." 

David could think of nothing to say, so he said nothing, just rose when Sean released him. He went to the bathroom. Afterwards, looking into the mirror as he washed his hands, he thought idly that he was the only one of the three currently with a beard. He thought about shaving, then shrugged, and went back to the bedroom.

Sean tossed the covers back and lifted the towel that was lying on the sheets, giving David a quizzical look. 

"Viggo was in the shower when I got here," David said. 

A rope was already looped through the brass headboard, and Sean turned to finish attaching two ropes to the footboard, near the corners. Returning to the side of the bed, he spread the towel on the bed, stepped back, and looked at David who was standing on the wrong side.

David walked around to the right side, and Sean reached out, clasped his wrist, and pulled him closer to the bed.

"Here," Sean said, guiding him.

David sat, scrunched back, and turned to lie on his back, putting his arms over his head. It took Sean only a few moments to loop the rope around his wrists and knot it.

"Shit, wait a minute," Sean said, and went back to his suitcase.

David saw what he pulled out and could not help laughing.

"What?"

"Look in the nightstand."

Sean turned, shrugged, then went around the bed to the nightstand and opened the drawer. He stared down, then laughed. "All right," he said, tossing his tube onto the bed and shutting the drawer. As he walked back to David's side of the bed, he pulled the black t-shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor.

David expected Sean to tie his legs, so was surprised when he stood a moment, then got onto the bed, straddling David's thighs. The soft denim rubbed against David's skin as Sean leaned forward and kissed him, lips and tongue greedy, demanding, pushing David's mouth open, his head back. As the kiss went on, David wondered vaguely where Sean had learned his breath control, and then he concentrated on breathing.

He freed his mouth long enough for half a breath, and then Sean pushed forward again, the kiss deep and hard and wet. With the only touch Sean's mouth and legs against David, he still found himself hardening, felt the thrust of Sean's tongue echoing through his body. 

When Sean released him, settling back, he looked and David. And smiled. 

David blinked, remembering Viggo earlier, dark hair accenting pale skin, sitting over him, now seeing Sean, broader in the shoulders, longer hair falling over his face and shoulders, gold hair on chest glinting in the light, nearly in the same position. The dark jeans barely masked his erection.

Leaning forward, Sean ran his fingers feather-light from David's shoulders, over his chest, down his belly, then swept them wide down his thighs. And again. His touch gentle, fingertips barely grazing David, over and over, the movement igniting heat under his skin. Each stroke covered a different area, moving from the center of David's body out to skim down his sides, over the ribs, to his hips. Tantalizing, seductive, the fingers avoided nipples and cock, causing David to arch his back, pull against the ropes.

Sean's hands swept lower, traced the arc of David's ribs, teased down his belly, and circled closer, closer to his erection. Then halted.

"Shit," David gritted his teeth, pushed up.

"Want more," Sean asked, running one finger gently up his cock.

"Fuck, yes. Please."

Sean shifted over, reaching to pick up the tube, and squeezed a generous amount on his hand. Then, confusing David, he began rubbing his hands together. David expected him to move, to turn David, but he reached out, skin glistening, and stroked down David's cock, rubbing with both hands.

Shutting his eyes, David panted, feeling slickness and pressure around him, as one of Sean's hand moved up and down, the other sliding up his chest to his nipple. A thumb rubbed over the already hard nipple, then Sean pinched gently at first, harder as David writhed under him. 

Feeling pressure start to build, deep within, David tensed, but Sean released him. Then rose off him and turned him over. The bed tiled as Sean moved, and David felt a slick hand around his ankle. Sean pulled his right leg over, tied the rope around his ankle, then moved back and did the same for his left leg. His legs spread wide, David squirmed against the towel under him, then jumped as Sean's hand ran up the back of his leg.

"Just like I fantasized, that time in Idaho," Sean said softly, his hands on David's ass. stroking. "Do you remember?"

David nodded, not trusting his voice, not sure what he'd say.

Aching, David realizing Sean hadn't told him not to speak. So. "Sean, would you stop talking and fucking _do_ it," he said.

Sean's hand paused, then withdrew. Silence.

David wondered just how stupid he'd been.

The bed tilted, and David turned his head to see Sean sitting beside him. 

"Was that an order?"

"No," David said, his heart pounding.

"It sounded like it."

David thought fast. "It was a…fervent request." He held his breath.

"Hmmm." Sean leaned down, one hand resting lightly on David's shoulder, the other cupping his chin, thumb rubbing over David's lips. 

Silence extended until David had to gasp out, breathe again. Sean's thumb pressed against his mouth. 

"Maybe you'd better not talk for a little while," Sean said gently.

David nodded fervently.

"And if this wasn't the first time we'd been together in a long time, we'd have to talk about how to phrase requests."

As Sean's hand moved down his back again, David shut his eyes in relief.

"Although that reminds me that in my fantasy, you were gagged," Sean said, fingers pushing then moving inside David. "And why." 

Sean began to speak again, voice soothing, a voice that usually turned David inside out, describing in exquisite detail the bondage fantasy. David set his teeth, sweating, determined to wait Sean out. As his fingers fucked David, as the story built to new levels of sexual athletics, David's hips jerked, spasmodic, and Sean stopped, pulled out, stood up.

With relief, David heard a zipper opening, a sigh, the sounds of jeans being pulled off. Then the bed tilted as Sean climbed between his legs. Finally. David made himself hold still, barely breathing, until the hard thrust jolted through him.

Bare legs pressing against David's, Sean's arms slid under David. Sean pumped strongly, no hint of the teasing gentleness of earlier, his urgency pushing David into a shuddering climax, tensing against his own release. Some uncounted time later, Sean came, his full weight resting on David.

Nobody said anything. 

Finally, Sean untied David, and he rolled over on his back. Sean sat cross-legged on the bed beside him. One finger tapped David's mouth.

"You can talk now," Sean said. "Any more requests?"

"Not at the moment," David mumbled, wondering how long it would be before Sean would let him forget that. He shut his eyes and wondered if there was time enough for a nap.

Viggo's voice outside the bedroom door roused David.

"David?" 

"We'll be out in a minute," Sean called in response. "David said something about ordering in room service. But I have some ideas for dessert."

He ran his hand down David's chest and belly to grip his cock. David was too limp to respond in any way beyond opening his eyes. "I was hoping to get some sleep tonight," he said.

Sean laughed, released David's cock, and grabbed his arm, pulling him up to a sitting position on the bed. "David, David, David," he said. "Don't you know? Sleep is for the weak."

Sean released David's arm and reached for his own jeans. David watched as he pulled them on, wondering, not for the first time, where Sean got his energy. Maybe it was vitamins.

"Well?" Sean looked at David, smiling.

"What?"

"Are you going to be eating like that? Not that I'd mind," Sean added.

David shook his head. "No. I want a shower."

Sean sighed. "Why am I not surprised? What about food?"

"If you order before I'm done, I'll have a French dip or the nearest equivalent, and their fruit plate. Something cold and caffeinated to drink." 

"No tequila?"

"No tequila." David turned and went to the bathroom. Before he closed the door, he looked back and saw Sean watching him. Not a chance to be missed. "Not tonight, anyway, unless all you plan to do is sleep," David said before closing the door.

One of the best things about hotels is that the hot water never runs out.

David stood in the tub, feet apart, head tilted back, so the water could run over as much of him as possible. This system was a good one, the water pressure strong and the shower-head high enough that he didn't have to bend to get his head wet. The hot water washed tiredness away, and he stretched, arching back, feeling energy return.

By the time he'd had enough hot water to suit him, the room was full of steam. He toweled himself dry, wandered out to the bedroom and dug around in his suitcase until he found a pair of shorts to pull on. Running his fingers through his wet hair, he went out to see what Viggo and Sean were doing.

At first glance, nothing. He could see the back of their heads and shoulders as they sat on the couch. He walked into the room and around to the front of the couch. 

Sean patted the space between them, but David pulled a chair around to sit in. 

"Have you ordered yet?" he asked, slouching down in the comfortable seat.

"A while ago," Sean said. "We're just waiting." He turned around and lay down on the couch, head resting on Viggo's lap. "For the food. And you. How's the hot water supply?"

"More than adequate," David said. 

Viggo dropped his hand on Sean's bare chest, then smiled at David. With David in shorts and Sean in only his jeans, Viggo was the only one fully dressed. He was wearing faded jeans and a blue t-shirt but his feet were bare.

"How are the Horse Lords?" David asked.

"Fine. Miranda hasn't gotten in yet, but she's expected later tonight. And Bernard and Karl are doing well--I'm sure you'll see them tomorrow."

David nodded. He realized he was starving so was the first to stand when a knock on the door and a voice announced room service. Even so, he carefully looked through the peephole before unchaining the door. Fans were not above tracking people down to their rooms, and although the film's security was good, you never knew. The young man standing in the hall was wearing a uniform and carrying a heavily laden tray, so David shrugged and let him in, holding the door open.

"Where would you like your dinner, sir?"

"Viggo?"

"Over here," Viggo said, rising from the couch. Sean had moved to David's chair and watched as Viggo directed the food be set on the coffee table then signed for it.

David shut and locked the door after the waiter left. Looking at the height of the table in relation to the couch, he decided he'd rather sit on the floor. He hated trying to maneuver food from low tables or sitting hunched over one to eat. Sean had pulled his chair close to the table, and Viggo had returned to the couch, but neither of their sandwiches was as messy as a French dip could be. David didn't want to end up wearing his dinner.

There wasn't much talking during the minutes after David dropped down to sit cross-legged between the table and the couch. The food wasn't great, but it was better than a lot of room service food, and David was glad not to have to dress and go out and deal with people. He devoured the hot, savoury sandwich quickly, drained the cola drink, and unwrapped the fruit plate. 

He eyed it approvingly. Much better range and more fruit than usual. Chunks of fresh pineapple and melon, mounded next to whole strawberries, with a banana on the side of a dinner plate, not the usual salad or desert plate. This hotel took its fruit seriously.

David decided it was more than he could eat.

"You want some?" he asked.

"Sure," Viggo said, leaning forward. David pushed the plate along the table, and Viggo took several pieces of each of the cut fruits.

"Sean?"

"All right," Sean said but shook his head when David held the plate out to him to choose. "You pick."

The tone in Sean's voice caused David's breath to catch. He shifted, looking up into the gleaming green eyes. The smile was, well, reminiscent.

  
David set the plate back down on the table, tilted his head, thinking. "No request?" he asked.

Sean shook his head, settled back more comfortably in the chair, watching David. Who watched him a moment, then shrugged, picked up the banana and handed it to Sean. Expecting a laugh, David was surprised to see Sean take the banana, peel it, and begin eating with a completely straight face.

It was Viggo who laughed.

David shrugged, pulled the plate closer, and picked up a dripping chunk of pineapple. There was nothing better than fresh fruit, he thought, biting into the firm sweet-tart flesh, feeling the juice dribble down his chin. The pineapple was quickly gone, and he picked up a strawberry next.

Sean snorted. David looked up to see Sean's eyes on him and realized there was one thing better than eating fresh fruit. And that was seeing how much you could tease someone by eating fresh fruit in front of them. 

Slowly. David opened his mouth and sucked the strawberry in whole, nipping the stem off and dropping it on the table. The rest were larger, so he had to eat them in bites. He did so as slowly as he could, licking his lips in between. The last berry was so ripe that when he bit down, cold liquid spurted on his chest. 

As David wiped his hand down his chest, then licked his fingers, Sean shifted in the chair, leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees. 

"Can you see this, Viggo?"

"Yes. And you."

The part of David not concentrating on Sean though Viggo sounded more amused than aroused, but then Viggo hadn't been the one to start this game.

The kiwi slices presented a few problems. They were much slipperier than the pineapple and strawberries and tended to slither away from his fingers which wouldn't be a problem if he could look down while picking them up. But David wanted to keep his eyes on Sean's. After a frustrating moment or two, he thought he'd have to give up.

"Want some help?" Sean's voice dripped innocence.

"All right," David said. 

"Is that a request?"

"A fervent one."

Sean slid forward and, in a single movement, was kneeling across the low table from David. Sean picked up a slice and slid it between David's lips. David chewed, enjoying the slippery sweetness mixed with the slight crunch of the seeds. Sean ate the next one himself, then fed several more to David. 

Picking up the last slice, Sean held it in front of David's face. David waited a moment, then leaned forward, opening his mouth, but Sean pulled back. Hesitating, David closed his mouth and watched Sean who leaned forward in turn, running the dripping slice over David's lips, down his chin and throat, and over his chest. 

"Oops, missed," Sean said blandly, dropping the fruit onto the empty plate. He shifted back far enough to push the coffee table between them away, then moved forward so he was kneeling in front of David.

Placing his hands on David's shoulders, Sean pressed him back against the leather couch. David shut his eyes as Sean leaned forward, running his tongue over David's lips, chin, and down. His head tilted back and the warm mouth moved from throat to chest, Sean licking, broad wet laps against his skin. 

"Very tasty," Sean murmured, lips just a breath away from David, "although I had planned for whipped cream on my dessert."

David couldn't help convulsing with laughter that jolted Sean away from him.

"You're kidding," David said, opening his eyes. "Nobody really does that, do they? It's only in porn flicks, isn't it?"

Sean sat back on his heels, eyebrow lifted. "As if other stuff we've been doing isn't in porn flicks? Some of them are very educational, you know. Most are pretty bad, of course, but there are those useful few."

"But, what, how, did you order whipped cream from room service?" David searched the table, saw nothing.

"Don't tell me," Viggo said. "You didn't pack it, did you? Because I'm pretty sure that would cause food poisoning."

"Of course not. Just across the street from the hotel are several handy little stores. I popped in and bought a few things. The whipped cream is in the fridge."

"I still don't believe this," David said. "It's too, too," he searched for a word that might be safe to use and failed to find one.

"You've never done it, right?"

"Right."

"So why not try it? You might like it."

"All right," David said, resigning himself to whipped cream. He still thought it sounded silly. And messy.

"Good," Sean said cheerfully, standing easily, then holding out a hand to pull David up. "So why don't you two go into the bedroom, and I'll join you in a few minutes."

David followed Viggo out of the room wondering if they were going to get any sleep at all.

**Wellington/Day Two**

"Don't open your eyes."

David smiled. An interesting command to hear at this time of day. He'd been trying to nap before the media party. But as someone had recently told him, sleep was for the weak. Now that he thought, it had been Sean. Last night. Which was why David had thought he needed a nap.

Hands pulled his shirt up around his arms. Limp, David let Sean pull the white tee off him. Then the hands settled on his shoulders, moving slowly down his sides.

"Shit." David twisted away.

Sean knew all his spots.

The hands slid into the waistband of his jeans and paused, waiting.

Keeping his eyes shut, David waited. It was Sean's game.

The hands slid together, angling under the jeans. David twitched, hardening, focused on breathing evenly, pretending he wasn't responding.

He felt the tug as Sean unbuttoned his jeans, opened them. Warm hands settled on his hips and the couch tilted under him. Sean must have sat down.

David arched against the strong hands as an agile tongue, velvet rough, trailed up his cock then swirled at the tip.

Sean's weight shifted, hands pressing David's hips into the couch. David smiled as Sean's lips brushed his, lifted away, and his tongue flicked across David's mouth. Obedient, David opened his mouth, felt Sean's weight on his chest before the kiss. Sean's tongue slid deep into David's mouth. Vaguely, David realized that Sean didn't seem to be wearing anything. Not judging by the wealth of warm skin, the frisson of soft hair, sliding against David's upper body.

An uncounted time later, Sean's mouth lifted away, slightly. "Eyes still shut? Good boy." A breath, a slight shift. "Don’t open them, don't say anything, don't move, right?"

David nodded, swallowing.

Hands slid under him, tugged his jeans down, slowly.

The sound of a door opening jolted David.

"Viggo? In here," Sean called.

"Look who I found downstairs," Viggo said.

The couch tilted under David as Sean moved away.

"Hey, Sean."

David squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut and wondered how much Richard could see. The back of the large couch faced the arch which opened onto the hallway, but shit. He wondered how much of Sean was showing.

"Richard." Sean's voice was even.

"I thought we could all have drinks before going down....Oh." Viggo's voice trailed off.

David decided that he was going to pretend to be sleeping. Unconscious. Ill. Maybe dead. Yes, dead would be a good idea at this point.

"Now is not a good time," Sean said.

"I can see that," Richard said.

David didn't know Richard as well as Viggo who'd been fascinated by so many aspects of the work Richard did and who had spent an amazing amount of his scant free time hanging around the workshops. However, David decided that the stifled tone of Richard's voice meant he was trying to avoid laughter. And not very successfully.

"I'll see you all later. Downstairs. Maybe."

Footsteps sounded, and the door closed.

Sighing, David relaxed slightly. Sean's hand stroked down his chest once, twice.

"Sean!"

"What did you expect me to do? Ask him to join us?"

"No, but I.."

The cushions against the back of the couch shifted, smooth leather pressing against David's side.

"Oh." Viggo's voice sounded closer. A hand touched David's cheek. "David?"

"He can't open his eyes or talk," Sean said, settling down, sitting back on David's thighs, bare legs and thighs pressing against him. David realized Sean was definitely naked. "Or move. Want to play?"

"What do you think?"

David bit the inside of his cheek at the note in Viggo's voice. Sean had said not to talk, but that probably meant no laughing either.

"You know what to do."

Viggo's hand left David's face. A zipper. Rustling. Soft thuds.

Sean moved off David, but a moment later, David felt Sean's hands on his shoulders, pulling him up into a sitting position. As his back left the couch, the sensation of the leather pulling away from damp skin made him shudder. Not pain, but a stimulus at this moment that seemed too much.

A warm hand ran down his back. "Let me get something," Viggo said.

"Don't take too long or I might have to start without you."

An arm around David's shoulders pulled him closer to Sean's body as he sat on the couch beside David to run fingers ran over his lips, tracing the outline, then press against them. David let his head fall back against Sean's arm, mouth opening.

"Here."

Something soft, fabric, brushed against David's back.

"That's no fun," Sean protested.

"You want to clean the couch or pay for cleaning it when we leave?"

"Shit. All right. You sit there."

The cushions under David bounced. 

"Put your leg up on the couch…no, the &lt;i&gt;other&lt;/i&gt; one….now shift back, face me a little, stretch out there...lie back"

David tried to imagine what was going on behind him and failed, jumped as a foot then a leg pushed between him and the back of the couch.

"Perfect. Here.."

David was tilted gently back into Viggo's arms, one going around his waist, the other resting lightly on his chest, pulling him down against Viggo's body. 

"Turn just .."

Sean's arms slid under and around David. With Viggo's help, Sean turned David until he was face down, still held by Viggo, who flinched as David's elbow slid down between his legs.

A tap on his shoulder indicated Sean had seen. Obedient, David relaxed again, feeling the cloth pulled under him.

A few more adjustments left David was resting comfortably in the circle of Viggo's arm, head resting against Viggo's chest, belly resting against the cloth under them. 

"Very nice."

"You can say that because you're not on the bottom," Viggo said.

Concerned, David started to shift away, but was held firmly by Viggo. Sean's hands pressed down firmly as he slid onto the couch on top of David.

"Stay where you are. Viggo's just complaining to hear himself talk, right, love?"

"If you say so." Viggo's free hand rested at the base of David's throat, stroking lightly. 

Reassured, David turned his head for the kiss he knew was coming, smiling as Viggo's mouth took his. 

A slick finger pushed inside him, gently, slowly. Muscles tight in his belly, David tried not to move, could not help his response. Sean's hand slid over David's back, Sean's arm holding David still, pulling out, then pushing in again. Out and in, over and over, twisting at the moment of deepest penetration, but the angle not....quite....right.

Viggo's mouth and tongue and hands moved on David, dampness slicking their skins, as Sean pushed in and out, patient, relentless. Caught, held, pleasured, David moaned into Viggo's mouth.

Viggo ended the kiss, slid one hand around David's head, holding him tightly. 

Pulling out, Sean shifted, hands moving on David, pressing him apart. Blunt warmth ran along his skin, rested against him. David twisted, trying to thrust back, impatient, aching.

Viggo's hold on him tightened, Sean's hands held him.

Slowly, too slowly, Sean pushed in, pausing, moving, then pausing again. Out, nearly all the way, then, slowly in again. A bloody micrometer at a time David thought, frustrated. Different. What was Sean's game. David clenched muscles, feeling the heat rising in his body, wanting, demanding more.

But no way to speak.

On and on, gentle. Devastating. Sweat ran down David's back, sides. His heart pounded. Finally, Sean paused, then, grunting, thrust in strongly, hips pumping, pressure building. David shuddered, held his breath, was nearly there as Sean pushed in one last time, coming deep inside David. 

Frustrated, David forced himself to lie still, panting, feeling Viggo move under him, Sean's withdrawal. Viggo shifted, hands lifting David, to turn him onto the couch. Lying on his side, so close to opening his eyes, to demanding more, David felt the warm bulk pressing against his back as someone, he thought it must be Viggo, lay down behind him. The strong body pushed David against the back of the couch. 

Smooth fabric teased him, and he arched his back, jumping as hands pulled his arms over his head to let other hands clamp on his wrists. Stretching his legs, David twisted, unable to move between the warm body and the back of the couch. 

Hands parted him, and a hard cock thrust in, jolting David. One hand slid over his hip, across his belly, wrapped around his cock, began rubbing in time to the thrusts, hard and fast and deep, the kind David had wanted. 

Oh. God. Yes. Fuck Sean's rules. David thrust back, pushing, demanding, then receiving what he wanted. 

A dizzying, fast, hard time later, David bit down on soft fabric, pretending he wasn't making that sound, and came.

* * * * * * *

Later, when David stepped out of the shower, toweling himself dry, he heard a knock on the door. 

"I'm through," he called. "Just have to get dressed."

They would only be a little late to the premier party, he thought guiltily.

The door opened, and Sean stepped in. David's mouth opened as he stopped to admire what he saw. &lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/community/bean_daily/2004/03/22/"&gt;Sean was wearing a charcoal grey suit, a black shirt, and a silver and black striped tie.&lt;/a&gt;

From the grin, he liked seeing David wearing a towel.

"Aren't we supposed to be getting ready for the party?" David asked.

Sean nodded. "Just wondered if you'd like to try something tonight," he said. 

"What?"

Pulling his hand out of a pocket, Sean gave David several leather straps. David ran them through his hands, confused. Different lengths. Velcro attachments. The straps were fairly thick, but soft and pliable. He looked at Sean and shrugged.

"I put them on you. Under your clothes. Only you and I know they're there." Sean's grin widened.

David shook his head. He didn't see much point to it one way or the other, but what the hell. As long as nobody else could see them. "OK."

Reclaiming the handful of straps, Sean said, "Drop the towel." 

David sighed, and did so, then stood quietly as Sean worked. The first one went around David's right upper arm, cinched fairly tightly. The second, around his waist, roughly where his waistband would fall. The third Sean took his time over, sliding it high on David's left thigh, nudging it up against his body. 

David shut his eyes, feeling his cock twitch. He should have expected it, he thought. 

Sean stood back, ran his hands over each strap, slowly.

"You can dress now," he said. "Let's not keep Viggo waiting."

* * * * * * *

The rooms were packed, heat rising to the high ceilings to meet the glare of the lights. David saw actors and people he recognized from all the technical and production crews he'd had anything to do with. One of the things David had liked most about Peter's approach to filmmaking was how everyone working on the project was an equal in his eyes, each with different responsibilities, but all given the resources they needed to do their jobs and the appreciation for those jobs. One reason why the film was so outstanding in so many ways.

And that meant Peter cast a wide net when it came to invitations for the public events. Although, as was often the case, the media tended to focus more on the actors, the public faces of the film. There were also studio executives and local politicians and the media--the world wide media, he realized--jumbled throughout the crowd. 

The sound roared, a solid wall that made David feel like retreating. But Viggo and Sean were behind him. He took a deep breath, feeling the leather cinch around his waist, and stepped through the door. 

This was the part of his job he disliked the most, but it had to be done. He liked parties, but not media events. Liked hanging out with friends, drinking, talking, in groups. In private. Not spending time in rooms packed full of people, all aware of the cameras circulating. 

He worked in front of cameras, he told himself, and this night was one more acting job. He tried to step into the persona he'd developed for this sort of event. Sean patted him on the arm, his upper right arm, and smiled before disappearing into the crowd. Naturally, he chose the exact spot where he'd wrapped the leather strap. 

&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/community/wenham_weekly/5384.html"&gt;David had had to pull out a slightly wrinkled but longsleeved shirt from his suitcase because he'd found the strap on his right arm showed with a short sleeve.&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/rohandove/243894.html"&gt;On his other side, Viggo, looking comfortable in jeans and a casual shirt, short sleeved and blue checked, with no tie, patted David on his left arm and disappeared into the crowd.&lt;/a&gt;

Mingling was the rule of the day. The last thing the three of them needed to do was spend a lot of time together at a public party. David shook his head, reaching for his role of Actor in Public. Had to make nice, he thought, and retrieved the smile that went along with the role. The warmth of the room made David take a few moments to roll the long purple sleeves up to just above his elbows before plunging in to the crowd.

* * * * * * *

Some time later, he stood in a quiet corner, taking a short break. The crowd was clearing out slightly. The evening so far had been pleasanter than he'd expected. He'd tried to enjoy the hugs and greetings from people he knew while ignoring the flashing lights and dealing with the requests for autographs.

"Here," a glass appeared in front of him, then Sean.

David took it, gratefully. He hadn't managed to fight his way through to any of the bars. He sipped, nearly choked. Tequila.

He looked at Sean who stood a polite public distance away, hair gleaming, suit and shirt and tie as crisp and impeccable as when he'd put them on. Sean raised his own glass and drank. David watched his lips curve around the rim, the flash of his tongue as he tilted the glass back, then swallowed, throat moving. 

Sean was watching him over the glass.

David gripped his glass with fingers that were suddenly slippery with sweat. The leather straps wound around him tightened.

He felt as much as saw Sean's eyes move from face to arm, from arm to waist, and lower. David felt himself start to harden, knew Sean saw by the gleam in the green eyes.

Smiling pleasantly, Sean took another sip. Nodded to Dan and Chris who were walking by, arm in arm.

They smiled back, said hello to David and went on.

David thought he should say something. His mind refused to cooperate by producing words The sensation of the smooth leather against his body intensified. When Sean had suggested this game, David hadn't thought it would be that interesting. 

Not like the afternoon at Sean's with the harness.

Closing his eyes, David breathed as deeply as he could and wished that he had not thought of that afternoon at this moment. 

"Drink up," Sean said.

David opened his eyes, raised his glass a few inches to Sean, and drank. The tequila ran like gold fire down his throat. 

"Want another?" Sean's intonation made it a genuine question this time.

David licked his lips, swallowed. "Just water this time," he said. "Thanks."

Sean nodded, took his glass, and disappeared back into the crowd.

David wondered what would happen when Sean came back, considered leaving. 

"Hey, mate!"

Karl slid between two men who were wearing "I Survived Helm's Deep" t-shirts and hugged David, exuberant, almost lifting him off his feet.

David hugged him back. It was good to see Karl.

They had only started catching up, though, when someone David didn't recognize appeared and told Karl he needed to talk to someone, a name David couldn't catch or recognize in the noise. Karl disappeared into the crowd with a last wave to David. 

David smiled, settled back against the wall. He could wait here for Sean. It would be all right. Sean wasn't going to do anything in public.

In one of those strange moments that occur at random, the noise around David died down and the press of bodies shifted away, leaving one figure, wearing black, standing about ten feet away, who turned.

It was Andy. He walked toward David, smiling, but not speaking, blue eyes intent. His hair was longer than it had been during the shoot, curling around his face. 

Still not speaking, he nodded a greeting. Stood at his ease in front of David, well within his private space. 

David was unable to move, unable to decide what he should do or say. To offer a hug or kiss like the ones he'd been sharing with friends on the cast and crew all evening to Andy seemed impossible. But given all that had happened between them, to not move, to say nothing, would be unthinkable. Feeling as if he was moving in water, David straightened, reached out to Andy who took his hand, pulled David closer, and placed his free hand on David's right arm.

As Andy's hand closed around his upper arm, David reflexively tried to pull away. Andy's grip tightened, the long fingers moving gently against David's arm, Andy's eyes shifting, his expression changing. He'd clearly felt the strap under the shirt.

"David," Andy said, lips curling in a smile David recognized. "This is new."

Stepping closer, Andy maintained his grip on David's arm, lowered his voice. "Where else?"

David looked over Andy's shoulder, did not see anyone looking at them, so stepped to his left, suddenly, pulling away, breaking free from Andy's grip. 

Turning slightly, Andy did not move to follow David. Instead, Andy's outstretched hand dropped to his side, and he tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

David shook his head, leaned back against the wall out of reach, pretending to relax.

"Not now," he said. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm well," Andy said. "But we were talking about you. How are you doing? What are you doing? And, most interesting, with whom are you doing it?" 

Andy's stance, his lowered voice and smile were all invisible to the strangers eddying about them David assured himself.

Sean pushed his way through the nearest group and paused when he saw Andy. He strolled over to join them, offering David a glass of ice water.

David took it, held it tightly, and watched as Sean pivoted to face Andy. The two were standing facing each other, forming a triangle with David at one point, more space between the two of them than between David and either of them.

"Andy." 

"Sean." Andy watched Sean as he raised his glass for a leisurely swallow. "Where's Viggo?"

Sean shrugged. "Haven't seen him since we got here," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason, really. Perhaps a touch of surprise at seeing you all alone."

  
David kept an eye out but no one else seemed inclined to approach them. This corner was not on the direct route to any of the bars or the exits. But they were still in public. And he had no idea what the combination of Sean and Andy might result in.

"Oh, I'm not alone." Sean's smile widened.

"Good," Andy said. "Then if you'll excuse us, I was hoping to speak to David. Alone." Reaching out, Andy grasped David's arm again and tugged.

David, surprised, took a step or two before he balked, pulled back. "I don't think so," he said.

"Neither do I," Sean closed the gap between them, angling to stand between Andy and David.

  
Andy released David, pivoted, and mimed a salute to Sean. "Well, that answers one of my questions," he said. "But not what the game is. And whether or not anyone else might be invited to join."

"Well, I've answered a lot of prying questions tonight," Sean said. "I guess a couple of more won't matter. The answers are, first, none of your business. And second, no."

Andy nodded. "That's clear enough," he said. He reached out and hooked his fingers into the waistband of David's pants, pulled him close enough to whisper, "Let me know if you're interested in wider circulation," into his ear, breath warm against David's neck. Then, releasing him, Andy turned and slid away through the crowd.

Trying to ignore the slight tremor in his knees, David stepped over and back, leaned against the wall, and drank his water in one long swallow, the ice cubes hitting his teeth at the end. When he came up for air, Sean had moved to stand in front of him, blocking his view of the rest of the room. Standing closer than Andy had.

"That was interesting," he said, eyes intent on David's face. "What's going on?"

"You know about Andy," David said.

"What happened during the shoot, after I'd left, yes, I've heard. But now?"

"I don't know what that was about. Tonight's the first time I've seen him since we arrived."

Sean nodded, took the empty glass from David. "Well, I'd offer to get you another drink, but I don't think I want to leave you alone again."

David didn't want another drink in any case, but he didn't say anything. The area around them had cleared even more. 

Sean's stance had shifted again, and he finished his drink, holding both empty glasses easily in one hand. He looked David over again slowly, and David could feel himself responding.

Softly, Sean spoke. "Next time, I think I'll put a strap higher. On your chest. Around your nipples. And tighter."

David felt his heart pounding, deep in his chest, resonating into his throat, could feel sweat under the leather straps and on his back. He could say nothing, could only look at Sean. And nod.

"Let's go see if Viggo's ready to leave, shall we?"

David followed Sean through the room which had cleared enough that they could move easily for the first time that evening. Given that circumstance, it was odd that David felt more than ever as if he were struggling to move, to breathe. 

Their progress across the rooms was less glacial than it had been earlier, but still took time as people turned, smiled, and spoke to them. David let Sean do the talking back, conscious with each step of the movement of the leather against him. He was more than ready to leave.

"David!" The familiar voice cut through the babble in the room, and David turned, braced himself for Elijah's hug. David still fell back a step or two as Elijah catapulted himself into a full-body greeting. "Man, it's so good to see you! Where have you been all night?"

"Just around. It's good to see you too," David managed before Elijah stepped back, grinned at him, and then pulled David's head down for a kiss. Ducking, David managed to turn his head and get the kiss on his cheek. More lights flashed.

Elijah released him, still smiling, and turned to Sean who was still holding the two empty glasses. "Hey, Bean! Stolen any Rings lately?"

Sean laughed and held out his free hand to Elijah who ignored it and flung his arms around him, as far up as he could reach. The glasses fell from Sean's other hand and shattered.

"Shit," Sean said, and Elijah released him.

"Sorry."

David went down on one knee to pick up what he could before someone stepped on broken glass. Luckily, most of the pieces were fairly large.

"I'll go find someone to clean it up," Elijah said and darted away.

David balanced the shards of glass in one hand, looked around for more.

Sean stepped closer, hands in his pockets.

"Don't step on any," David said, looking up.

"Don't move," Sean said, softly. "You might hurt yourself."

David swallowed at the note in his voice, shifted. He was kneeling on his right knee, and the band around his left thigh seemed to pulse against him.

Still more softly, Sean said, "I want you on your knees when we get back to the room. No clothes. In front of me."

Hard and aching, David concentrated on pretending to look for more broken glass. If they didn't get out of here soon....

"There," Elijah's voice sounded behind him, and two white-clad caterers assured him that, yes, they could see the problem, and it was no trouble at all.

Within a few minutes, the broken glass was swept up and dumped in a trash bag. David tossed the pieces he held away with relief, and accepted Sean's offer of a hand up. Elijah tugged on Sean's other arm and pulled him away from David.

"Have you seen Viggo?" Sean asked.

"Sure, he's over in the VIP area. Follow me."

David followed Sean and Elijah, listening as Elijah told Sean all about his new apartment in New York City. In the next room, Elijah led them over to where tables were set up in a roped-off area. Viggo was there, David saw, looking over Elijah's head. At a table. With Richard. And Andy.

If Elijah hadn't been there, David could have steered Sean off in another direction. But there was no hope of that, he could see, as Elijah jumped over the low-slung velvet ropes and waved them over. After general greetings and the usual milling around to get extra chairs, David found himself sitting across the small table from Richard and Viggo, with Sean on his left and Elijah on his right, and Andy between Elijah and Viggo. And drink orders being taken.

"Tequila and ice water," David said, resigned to his fate. 

Viggo and Richard already had full glasses in front of them and had gone back to a conversation that did not seem to make sense. David thought it was about art although it could have been about photography. Design elements were a major part of it, but the talk was so technical he gave up on trying to follow it.

David watched as Richard borrowed a pen from Andy and began drawing on the tablecloth. Viggo had his notebook out, flat on the table, leaning on one elbow and watching intently, taking an occasional note. Neither man took any notice of the others at the table. Elijah and Andy were talking, mostly Elijah. 

Their drinks came. 

The table could probably seat four comfortably, but with six, they were so crowded they were nearly sitting in each other's laps. Under the tablecloth, Sean's hand settled on David's thigh, drifting up to find, then stroke, the strap. He shuddered, feeling the touch flash through his body.

  

  1. And waiting however long it took for Viggo to finish so they could go back to the hotel.
  



Eventually, Sean released David, straightened and pushed his chair back. "Viggo," he said, firmly, projecting loud enough to be heard over both Richard and Elijah. 

Blinking, Viggo looked up. 

"It's time."

"Time?"

"To go. Look."

People were leaving, David realized, and the final clean-up was starting. It was over. He rose quickly to his feet. Richard capped the pen and put it in his pocket, nodded to the group, and left. 

The others began moving toward the door, Viggo last, still writing. Elijah caught up with Sean and they drew ahead of the others. David found Andy walking beside him. Uneasy, David waited, but Andy said nothing beyond a smiling goodnight outside the door before walking off with Elijah.

Sean tugged Viggo over to where the limo was waiting to take them back to their hotel. The driver opened the passenger door and Viggo climbed in. Sean gestured for David to follow, then slid in beside him, closing the door firmly. 

Smoothly, the big car pulled out. David leaned back against the comfortable seat, his legs sprawling, shut his eyes, and let out a long breath.

"What did Andy say to you?"

David opened his eyes enough to be sure that the soundproof glass between the front and back of the car was closed. 

"You heard most of it," he said. 

"No, I meant just now."

"Nothing."

"Viggo?"

"What?" 

"Did Andy talk to you?"

"Of course."

"About David?" 

Hearing the note in Sean's voice, David opened his eyes, sat up straight. Sean was sitting sideways, leaning forward to look at Viggo across David. 

"David? No, why would he?"

Sean sat back, looking relaxed. "Good."

The car stopped at a red light.

"Why would you ask if Andy talked to me about David?"

"Nothing important, just something that happened when we talked to him earlier."

Viggo was silent until the light turned green and the car moved ahead. Then he shifted on the seat, moving closer to David.

"Tell me what happened, David."

David turned his head. Lights from the street and buildings outside moved across Viggo's face. The combination of the dark and the shifting light with the short hair and lack of beard which had surprised David when he first saw Viggo this time made him look like a stranger. The planes of his face, the strength of it, seemed harder. 

"When I saw Andy earlier, he figured out there was a game."

"Game?"

David shifted, looking at Sean, who nodded at him, then back at Viggo. David was more concerned about whether or not they could tell if the intercom was on at the moment than Sean's rules, but there was no way to know. The best bet was to avoid specifics.

"And he made it clear he was interested in playing. We said no."

Viggo frowned and opened his mouth, but David gestured to the front of the car and shook his head.

Still frowning, Viggo settled back into the seat, eyes still on David. 

The rest of the ride passed in silence.

* * * * *

Viggo ran his keycard through the scanner and the elevator started up to the 13th floor. They were the only ones in the elevator, so David felt free to ask Sean a question.

"So what was Elijah talking to you about earlier?"

Sean shrugged. "Nothing much. The new apartment. His projects. What he's been doing. I wasn't paying too much attention there at the end. Why? Are you jealous?"

"Should I be?" David realized he was only half kidding. Watching Elijah with Sean earlier had seemed strange. Not only did Elijah look older, which was no surprise, but he acted differently.

Throwing back his head, Sean laughed. "No, no way. Oh, he's a sweet kid, but I swear he needs a keeper. Or maybe two. Even Astin couldn't keep up with him when we were all working on &lt;i&gt;Fellowship&lt;/i&gt;. And it's not just his age. Orli's as bad, and that's another problem. If you get involved with Elijah, you probably end up with the package deal, Orli, and if you're not careful, along comes Dom and probably Billy. They're still hanging out together all the time. And who needs all that? No, I had nothing to do with that bunch…unlike some," he slapped Viggo on the back as the doors opened. 

David was closest to the door, led the way down the hallway to Viggo's room, waited for him to open the door.

"You do know about Orli and Viggo, right?" Sean led the way into the hallway, and into the room beyond, tossing his jacket over a chair and loosening his tie.

Viggo put the chain on the door. "He knows. You know. We all know."

David leaned against the back of the couch. "I gathered as much, figured it was before I started working."

Sean mimed 'extreme amazement.' "You don't know when? It's too good a story not to tell, Viggo."

Shaking his head, Viggo sat, stretching his legs out in front of him. "It was during the time we were filming Helm's Deep," he said. "I don't know how much I told you about that?"

"Not very much. I heard from some of the others about the weather, the night shooting. Sounded as if everyone earned those t-shirts." 

"It was probably the most intense work I did on the film, in some ways," Viggo said, relaxing back into the chair, gaze focused above David's head. "Week after week of night shoots, trying to sleep during the day, the constant training for the fight scenes, the demands were brutal. It was like we were all living on an island for months, all trying to help each other get through it. The only people we saw for days, no, for nights, on end were that unit's cast and crew, the people working on Helm's Deep." A pause, and then, "First you got tired. And then you moved beyond that. Into some space where the tiredness just made you crazy. I can hardly believe we got through it with as few injuries as we did. It's hard to remember now, it all blurs."

"That's not quite the story I heard," Sean said. "Orlando is somehow absent."

Viggo shrugged. "It's part of it. At some point, we fell into bed together, but when that shoot ended, so did we. Like the work, it was intense, but then it just…ended. I gather you heard his version."

Sean laughed. "Yes, we all did." He crossed the room to lean against the couch, within arm's reach of David.

"What I want to know…" Viggo started, then stopped. After a moment, he looked at David, who shifted against the couch, then continued. "Is what game Andy apparently found out about. That I didn't know about."

The note in Viggo's voice chilled David. He was uneasily aware of the tightness of the leather around him, but in a different way. He hadn't thought about telling Viggo earlier, there hadn't really been a chance. As soon as he'd dressed, they'd left, rushing to make the premier party no more than fashionably late. Even if they'd had time on the trip or afterwards, there were people around. 

Sean either didn't hear what David had, or chose to ignore it. Sliding closer to David, Sean ran his hand around David's waist, slid his fingers down under his waistband, underneath the strap. 

Unable to help his response to Sean's touch, David still watched Viggo's face carefully.

"Something I came up with on the spur of the moment," Sean said. "David is wearing a few extras under his clothing. Want to see?"

"Yes," Viggo said. "I would."

David raised his hands, started to unbutton his shirt, but Sean pulled him a step closer, then reached out to grasp and tug his hands down. 

"Let me," he said.

Sean positioned David in front of him, facing Viggo, then reached around him and started undoing buttons. Unable to see what he was doing, Sean fumbled a few of them, but he obviously was in no hurry. When he finished the buttons, he raised his hands to David's shoulders, tugged the shirt down and off, pulling it free and letting it drop to the floor.

Then Sean's arms slid around David's waist to undo his pants. David tensed as the fabric rasped across his cock, hardening, and Sean's arms tightened around him. "Just hold on," he said. And tugged the pants open and down, letting them pool around David's feet. 

Viggo stood. Through half closed eyes, David watched him approach.

Sean's warmth pressed from behind, and he held David still as Viggo reached out, touching David's face with his right hand, running his left over the strap on David's right arm.

Calloused fingers probed under the strap around David's waist, first Sean's, then Viggo's. David's head fell back, muscles in belly and thighs clenching as he trembled. Viggo pressed closer, his right hand dropping to grip the strap around David's thigh. He tried to thrust forward but was held firmly by Sean.

Viggo's hand left David's arm and rested at the base of his throat. "I want another one, here," he said. "Sean, do you have more?"

"In my case. An assortment. Feel free."

Releasing David, Viggo turned and left the room. When he came back, he had removed his shirt and was carrying a handful of leather straps. 

David's heart pounded harder as Viggo dropped all but one of the straps on the chair, turned them over, estimating lengths, and chose one. Coming back to stand in front of David, Viggo put it around his neck, the smooth leather sliding against damp skin. Viggo fastened it, tugging gently. "Too tight?" he asked. David shook his head.

Viggo's eyes darkened, and he smiled. "Good." 

Hands sliding up to hold David's head firmly, Viggo leaned forward, pressing David back against Sean and kissing him. David relaxed, held between the two strong bodies, as Viggo's lips and tongue moved down his neck, biting and sucking the spot where neck joined shoulder. 

Long moments later, Viggo pulled back slightly, hands moving to David's shoulders. "One more thing," he said. "Turn around."

Sean released David as Viggo stepped back, tugging David forward and turning him around. David stumbled momentarily, then recovered, kicking free of his pants.

Viggo said, "Give me your tie."

"What?"

"Give me your tie. Please." 

Sean shrugged, pulled the loose tie over his head, and handed it to Viggo. 

After a moment, David felt Viggo's hands on his shoulders. Then sliding from shoulders down his arms to his wrists, pulling them together behind his back. The smooth silk of the tie was looped twice around his wrists.

David leaned back slightly. "Remember how to tie the knots?" he asked, smiling.

The silk tightened. Viggo slid his arm around David's chest, pulled him back even further, grinding his hips against David, and whispered, breath warm against his neck. "Probably. But even if I don't, is that a problem? Should I stop?"

Shaking his head, David said, "No. It's not. Do it."

Viggo looped the tie once more before knotting it. The silk was cool against David's skin.

Sean turned to bend over the back of the couch, the dark trousers tightening against his ass. He turned, holding a pillow in his hands, leaned against the couch, and dropped the pillow to the floor in front of him.

"David. Here. On your knees."

Viggo pushed David gently forward, and he took the few steps necessary, then dropped to both knees in front of Sean. He was very close to Sean's legs.

Sean's hands, large and warm, turned David's head back, tilting it slightly, caressing him, fingers trailing through his hair and down his neck. Around the strap that collared him.

"You want to know something, David?"

David looked into the green eyes, nodded.

"You said no more Faramir, and I agreed. But you can't stop me from fantasizing, little brother," and Sean's voice shifted to Boromir's on the last two words. "From imagining that it's Faramir. Here. On his knees. Ready to suck my cock."

One hand slid to the back of David's head, to his neck, tugged him forward. David went with the motion, rubbing against the dark grey fabric moulded to Sean's body, leaning against Sean's thighs. The smooth dense texture of his suit covered hardness. 

Lost in sensation, David was surprised when Viggo's hands descended on his shoulders, when Viggo's legs pressed close to David's sides, the roughness of denim braced against him. Viggo pulled him back, away from Sean, one hand sliding down to David's chest. He opened his eyes, but could see little, kneeling as he was between them.

Viggo leaned forward from the waist, and David heard as well as felt Viggo kiss Sean, could see Viggo's left arm move around Sean's waist.

"You will never do that again."

It was Aragorn's voice, no, Elessar's, David realized.

"What?" Sean's voice showed his surprise.

"Run a game with David and not tell me."

Silence. 

David watched as Sean grasped Viggo's wrist with both hands, pulled his hand up so Sean could kiss it. Slowly. First the back. "Never again." 

Voice and stance shifted back to Boromir's. Then, turning Viggo's hand over, Sean laid his face against it. Kissed the palm. David could not see Sean's face but felt some of the tension leave Viggo's body.

Stepping back, Viggo released David, who breathed more easily. He watched as Viggo reached out and grasped Sean's wrist. A slight turn of his other hand, and Viggo was holding both of Sean's wrists in his hands, their arms between their bodies.

"You can have your Boromir fantasy, if David's willing to play along. But here is my rule, Steward." Viggo pushed Sean's arms out and apart, then down, forcing his hands onto the back of the couch against which he was leaning, the sudden movement jolting David forward. "Your hands stay here. The moment your hands leave the couch, I'm stopping it."

"All right."

Viggo stepped away from David, releasing Sean. David felt Sean lean back, braced against the couch, saw his hands, palms down, fingers spread, pale against the black leather. 

"David?"

Viggo knelt beside David. Grinned. "Does Faramir want to give his brother a blow job?" 

David remembered that day in Idaho, sitting in the cottonwood tree. Sean had promised him no more Boromir/Faramir scenes. But tonight was different than the two earlier times, so different David could hardly begin to understand it at the moment. He would think about it later. For now, looking up, seeing Sean standing over him, the gleam of green eyes, David nodded. 

Viggo stood easily. "All right, then." 

David shifted on the pillow, glancing around to see Viggo pull one of the chairs closer and drop into it sideways, lounging, legs draped over the side. He looked comfortable but not inclined to move.

  
Sean was standing still, braced against the couch, arms and legs spread, the black shirt open at the neck, still tucked into the grey silk trousers. All zipped and buttoned. And Sean couldn't move his hands.

David tugged against the silk binding his wrists. As he'd thought, his hands were firmly bound behind him. And Viggo had not remembered the knot. 

Looking at Viggo, David said, "I don't suppose you're going to give me a hand here?"

"Does the Steward wish the King to unzip his pants?" 

"The Steward presents his compliments to the King and requests that he take a long walk off a short pier."

Viggo laughed, shook his head. 

David sighed. It figured. 

He tilted his head back and stretched, angling to bite down on the corner of the fly above the button. It took him three tries, tugging different ways, to unbutton the pants. Nuzzling the zipper flap aside, he bit down on the zipper and managed to pull it most of the way down the first time. Metal grated on his teeth, was bitter against his tongue. But Sean's fly was open.

Pressing forward, David managed to tug the cloth apart, tug the pants down slightly. Sean sighed as the movement freed his half-erect cock. 

David glanced up, saw Sean's head tilted back, back arched, thought his eyes were closed. Waiting a moment, David worked his tongue to build up saliva, then leaned forward, and delicately, using just the tip of his tongue, licked down, running his tongue from tip to base. Sean's thighs tensed against David. 

He leaned closer, moving underneath, swirling his tongue around and down, harder, using his full tongue to lick from root to tip. Sean hitched his hips forward, and his fingers pressed into the leather. Breathing harder. David opened his mouth, took Sean's cock inside, began sucking, gently at first, then harder. 

His own eyes shut, David twirled his tongue, sucking, licking, then opening his mouth and releasing Sean, leaning down to take each ball into his mouth, moving rhythmically, softly. Sean moaned.

Eventually, jaw aching and short of breath, David released Sean, sat back, panting.

Sean's eyes opened, hazy, focused on David. 

David sat back on his heels, grinning as he saw the implications of Viggo's rule. Sean could not touch him. This might be interesting, he thought.

David watched Sean shift against the couch. Readying himself for his next move, David waited.

Sean watched David. David watched Sean, wondered what he would say.

"David…"

David rose to his feet, feeling the leather shift against his skin, dampness and pressure reminding him again of the straps on him. He shoved the cushion to one side with his foot and stepped closer to Sean, standing between his open legs, pressing his hips against him. 

"Oh, no, &lt;i&gt;big&lt;/i&gt; brother," David said in Faramir's voice. The physicality was harder to achieve in the circumstances, but he did the best he could. He'd never imagined Faramir doing what David was going to do, but sometimes you have to improvise. He leaned forward, kissed Sean's mouth which was open, no doubt in surprise. The surprise didn't keep Sean from returning the kiss with enthusiasm, David noticed.

Releasing Sean's mouth but not pulling away, David went on as Faramir, lips close to Sean's. "You said it was your fantasy. But there's a difference between fantasy and real life. In our fantasies, we control it all, direct all the players. In real life, well, what would you say to Faramir now?"

Not giving Sean a chance to reply, David pulled away to bite down on the black shirt, tugging the buttonhole off the first button, then the second and third. Compared to the pant's fly button, the shirt came open easily, the soft fabric pulling apart, dark fabric framing pale skin, the muscular chest rising and falling. 

Slowly, David ran his tongue up the center of Sean's chest, licking up his throat, under his chin then around to his ear, closed his mouth on the earlobe. Sucked.

Sean thrust forward and David arched away immediately. Smiling, David saw Sean almost lurch forward, then remember and clutch the back of the couch.

Taking a step back, David managed to unbutton the rest of the shirt. He licked teasingly down Sean's belly, then knelt. Sean spread his legs wider as David licked, then sucked his cock. Felt hardness in his mouth, felt the muscles shifting in Sean's thighs. Tried to make his mouth wetter, make softer movements, sucking until he heard Sean moan, felt the quiver against his tongue.

David released him, slowly rose to his feet again, leaning against Sean, fitting his body as closely to Sean's as his clothes allowed, rubbing like a cat. Tilting his head, David whispered in Sean's ear, "Will you command me to continue, brother, or will you beg me?"

"Neither," Sean said. 

Twisting against David, Sean moved, whip-quick, hands gripping David's arms, pushing him sideways and over. In a breath, David found himself lying face up, half-across, half-over the back of the couch, head dangling and feet not touching the floor. The position sent pain shooting through his bound arms, and he winced, opened his mouth to protest. 

"But I will fuck you." Sean leaned over him, kissing him hard and fast, hands bruisingly hard on his upper arms, one leg pushing between his, tilting him even further over the couch.

"Stop, Sean."

David was pulled back up onto his feet by Sean. Dizzy, breathing hard, David could see one of Viggo's arms around Sean's neck, the other around his waist. Sean maintained the hard grip he had on David's arms.

"Let him go, Steward. You broke the rule."

A moment passed, then another, before, finally, Sean released David. David leaned against the back of the couch, panting and watching Sean. And Viggo. Who smiled at David over Sean's shoulder, and shifted his grip. One hand slid down to grasp Sean's cock, the other pushed his shirt aside so Viggo could rub Sean's nipple. 

"But since I suspect Faramir is somewhat to blame, I'm inclined to be merciful. And because you've given me an idea. So why don't you just go sit in that chair for a while and watch? Then you can carry out your promise to your brother."

Viggo slid around Sean, pushed him back against the couch to kiss him, slowly, hands braced against the couch. When Viggo released him, Sean said, "All right. This time. But we're going to have to talk about this."

Viggo shrugged, pushed him around and toward the chair. "Maybe. Later. But for now I'll trust that you can sit still so I don't have to tie you into the chair."

David tensed as Sean swung back, hands clenched. Viggo cocked his head, spread his hands wide. Sean watched Viggo a moment, then relaxed, throwing back his head and laughing. "Oh, fuck, all right, but we'll definitely have to talk about that. Later."

Sean flung himself into the chair, causing alarming creaks as he leaned back, pillowing his head on one arm. He smiled at David who wondered just how nervous he should be about that later talk.

But David forgot to worry as Viggo turned to him, reached out, and wrapped his fingers around the leather strap around David's waist, pulling him forward.

Viggo released David to turn and bend over the couch. When he straightened, he was holding the quilted bedspread he'd brought out earlier in both hands. He flipped it into the air, draping it over the back of the couch, pulling it down to touch the floor. 

Then he turned back to David, slid one finger inside the strap around his waist, and tugged. David moved as directed, and let Viggo place him against the back of the couch. Viggo moved to stand in front of him. Eyes intent on David's, Viggo pushed against David's ankles with his bare foot, kept exerting pressure until David's legs were spread wide and he was braced against the couch. 

Viggo moved forward, rubbing legs and chest against David, rough denim below, smooth skin above. One hand dropped to tug the strap around David's left thigh, pulling it up. David arched, head straining back, belly tight, as the leather bit into his flesh, pleasure flashing through him. He panted.

Viggo's arm went around David's shoulders, hand sliding up his back, under the strap around his neck, as Viggo pressed closer, tilting David further back over the couch, kissing him. David was barely able to keep his feet on the floor, and his arms were forced over the back of couch.

When Viggo shifted again, the strain on David's shoulders increased. Pain shot through his shoulders and back. He pulled his mouth free long enough to gasp, "That hurts."

Rising off David immediately, Viggo pulled him up off the couch to stand, feet firmly on the floor. David rotated his shoulders, grimacing, then shrugged at Viggo. "Wrong angle," he said. "Sorry."

Viggo smiled, hands sliding down his arms. "Let's try another."

David nodded, was turned around, and guided down to lie over the back of the couch. He rested on his belly, Viggo's hands moving down from his back to the strap around his waist. One hand lifted away, and David heard the sound of a zipper opening, felt Viggo's legs. Then a slick finger trailed across his ass, down his cleft, pressing, sliding into him. His response tilted him forward enough so his feet left the floor, and only Viggo's grip on the strap kept him from falling forward onto the seat. 

The smooth fabric slid over the leather couch, and David slid with it. He was bound, balancing precariously, held by Viggo. Trying to relax and center himself, David opened his legs slightly, squirmed when he felt Viggo's hand moving against him. Then David felt another finger press in slowly, rotating, pushing deeper.

David gasped for breath as Viggo pulled his fingers out then, slowly, positioning himself, pushed in, dropping his hand to hold the strap around David's thigh. Out, then back in, deeper, pushing against the tension in David's body, the only contact denim rubbing against skin, Viggo's slick cock moving deeper, each thrust jolting David nearly headlong over the couch, Viggo's hands around the leather. 

David's own weight bound him, pressing his cock against the smooth fabric, the sturdy back of the couch not giving way. David clenched, impatient, breathing uneven. Shutting his eyes, David tried to rock back, twisting his hips, hoping to push Viggo into more. Viggo's hands spasmed against him, and he pulsed deep inside David, coming, leaning forward, gasping. The increased weight pressed David down harder, almost painful. 

Limp against the couch, David waited, feeling the deep seated ache, the faltering rhythm inside his body, hoping Viggo'd got something out of this because David sure as hell hadn't. 

"Very very pretty," Sean's voice was smooth, almost a purr, all Boromir. "Now that I've been a good boy, can I get out of this chair?"

"In a minute."

Viggo's weight lifted off David, and a hand smoothed over his back. Then Viggo pulled David far enough back enough to get his feet on the floor. David stood, eyes shut a moment, breathing, then turned.

Viggo placed a hand on either side of David's head, looked at him a moment, said softly, "That was incredible," and kissed him. 

David leaned into the kiss, impatient, pushing forward.

  
Releasing David's mouth, Viggo leaned back, hands on his shoulders, and looked down. Back up, and nodded. 

"All right, Steward, you can get out of the chair, but only if you do as I say."

"Fine, as long as what you say involves fucking."

Viggo smiled, wide and joyful. "Oh, it does," he promised. 

"Good. Because it's been a long night."

David agreed.

Viggo turned, moving David with him, until they had reversed positions, with Viggo leaning against the back of the couch, David facing him. Spreading his legs and making himself comfortable, Viggo pulled David forward, sliding one arm around his shoulders.

"All right, Steward."

"Like that?"

"Like this. Or not at all."

David gritted his teeth to avoid saying something that would probably cause more trouble than he wanted to deal with at this point, then relaxed as he felt Sean's hands on his ass.

Hard and fast, Sean thrust in, jolting David against Viggo, hands sliding out to hold his hips, pushing him forward. David twisted, straining against the strong arms and hands, the bodies braced against him, sweat slicking their skins. He needed this, needed it harder. 

He could feel Viggo's hand grip him, caught between their bodies, rubbing. Sean's movements pushed David against Viggo, harder and faster, as Viggo held him, moving against him in turn, until finally, in a hard and shuddering wave of pleasure, David came, feeling wetness between them. Sean's hands left David, pulled Viggo tightly against him, as Sean came. Eyes closed, David stood surrounded by warmth until first Sean, then Viggo, released him.

Continuing to stand, David said, "Will somebody please untie me?"

"What, he didn't use the right knots?" Sean asked.

"No. He didn't." David felt Sean tugging at the knots until he was able to loosen them. He unwound the tie from David's wrists, freeing David, who was finally able to stretch, raising his hands above his head.

"Goddamn it, Viggo, look at that! It's pulled out of shape!"

"I'm sure it will be fine after it's cleaned."

"I don't think so, it's silk. And do you know how much this cost? You owe me another one."

David stepped to one side as Viggo and Sean discussed the issue of Sean's tie. Quietly, he undid the leather straps and draped them over the back of the couch. He had to clean up. And then sleep. He didn't even want to know what time it was. 

Neither seemed to notice as he left the room. He went to the bathroom, then took a quick shower. When he came out of the bathroom, Sean was coming into the bedroom, holding the leather straps and a tin.

"I need to clean these," Sean said. But he stopped next to David, put a hand on his right arm, where the strap had been. "You want to do it again, tomorrow?"

David nodded, too tired to speak. Sean went into the bathroom, and David pulled bedding back and crawled into the large bed. Into the center where he claimed two pillows, and pulled the covers up over his head. No doubt Viggo and Sean would join him. Sometime. Whenever. But he was going to sleep.

**Wellington** ** Day Three**

David let the hotel door swing closed behind him and leaned back against the cool surface for a moment. The room was blessedly quiet. The day's public events had been long, hot, tiring, crowded, and noisy if surprisingly well organized and friendly. He was glad they were over.

"How'd it go?" said Sean who seemed to be on the couch though David could not see him. 

David walked forward enough to see Sean who was lying full length on the large leather couch looking disgustingly cool and relaxed, reading. Since he wasn't officially there, he claimed he could not attend official events without starting unwanted tabloid gossip. David thought it was a useful excuse but didn't point out that he was attending the parties.

"Fine," he said.

"Where's Viggo?"

"Downstairs. In the bar with Richard." David watched Sean's face, but he only smiled slightly before speaking.

"I wonder if he'll bring him up to the room again."

David shrugged. He didn't know, and at the moment, didn't care. "I want a shower," he said, and headed for the bathroom

The water was silken against his skin. He stood under it for a long time, not thinking. When he felt able to move, he turned off the water, toweled more or less dry, and then, wrapping the towel around his waist, went back to the bedroom and stretched out on the bed. The room was silent, the light dim.

He was so comfortable that even when he heard voices outside, David didn't move. Maybe there was time for a short nap. David didn't move when he heard the door open. Maybe Viggo wanted a shower too.

A moment later, David felt something trail across his back. Narrow, soft, tickling. He yawned. "Sean, you're crazy if you think…" he started.

"It's me," said Viggo.

Startled, David rolled over to see Viggo standing next to the bed, ropes in his hands. 

"Although Sean suggested it."

The blue shirt he was wearing had been unbuttoned and pulled out of his jeans. David figured he knew how Sean had persuaded Viggo.

"Were you asleep?"

"Not yet," said David. "But I was thinking about it. I should have known better. But you can tie me up only if you can assure me that there is no whipped cream in the offing."

  
Viggo smiled, sat down on the bed. "There isn't," he assured David. "I threw the rest of it away."

Even Sean admitted the whipped cream had not worked out to plan. And David and Viggo had insisted on leaving an extremely large tip for the maid the next morning. 

"All right," said David. 

Intrigued, David rolled into the middle of the bed, stretching his arms above his head. Viggo did not usually tie him up, not when Sean was around. Remembering the times Sean had not been around, David felt his breathing change.

Viggo stood, then turned around to lean over David, one knee on the bed. Viggo looped the rope around the brass headboard, then around David's wrists. Then moved down to tie his ankles. It took only a few moments for Viggo to finish, and David lay across the bed at an angle. Shrugging his shirt off, Viggo stretched out beside David, reclining on one arm, pressing close.

David shut his eyes as Viggo's hand rested on his throat, exerting a familiar slight pressure. Just as Viggo kissed him, lightly, teasing with tongue and lips, the door to the room opened.

Viggo's weight pressed against David, smooth skin warm against his chest. David relaxed under Viggo, mouth opening in response to his sudden urgency. The bed tilted, and David could feel Sean settling onto the bed.

Viggo's hand tightened, then lifted away. David opened his eyes and saw Sean sitting, cross-legged, opposite Viggo. Hand sliding down to rest on David's chest, Viggo did not move. Watching them watch each other, David wondered just what had happened in the other room. 

Sean smiled and laid a hand flat on David's belly, just above the towel.

"We need to talk," said Sean.

"About what?"

David was glad Viggo had asked.

"About what's happened. Last night and the day before. What David did."

David tensed as Sean's hand slid lower, under the towel. 

Viggo grasped Sean's wrist, pulling his hand away. "If you want to talk, then talk," he said mildly. "And what has David done? Last night, you said you and I had to talk."

"We do need to talk. But David's part of that. As last night's little scene showed. And the night before, he gave me an order."

David opened his mouth to protest, and Sean added, "Of sorts."

Confused, David shut his mouth. 

Sean laid a hand on David's cheek, turned his head to face Sean. "What's happened makes me wonder if you want something different. I could read the last two times several ways. Or maybe you could just tell me."

David shook his head. "I don't know what you mean," he said.

"All right." Sean stroked David's face. "I'm just laying out some possible meanings here. I could be wrong. Just to start with, though, you could be pushing to become a sub who leads from below, someone who wants to dictate part or all of the scene but still play the submissive. Or you could be wanting to play a dominant role more often, or under some circumstances." Sean looked at Viggo, smiling. "Like last night. Or you could be wanting more dominance from us, although I gather Viggo doesn't see how you're you pushing the boundaries."

"I don't think I see what you call pushing at the boundaries. But maybe we don't have the same sense of boundaries," said Viggo. "And why tie David up to talk?"

Sean shifted closer, denim-covered legs pressing against David's side, hand sliding down to rest on his shoulder. 

"So he can't run away again."

"Run away?" David and Viggo spoke at the same time.

Sean nodded, frowning. "The way he did in Idaho."

Silence wrapped around David. He did not know what to say, a feeling he was fast becoming familiar with since he had arrived in Wellington, a feeling he was not used to having. 

"The more I think about it, the more I think that what's happening now is connected to the last time. Something changed then. Can you tell me what that was about?" Sean's voice was quiet, almost lost even in the silent room. 

David remembered Sean asking him under the cottonwood tree, remembered thinking how hard it would be to explain what was happening with Viggo. And it would be even harder now. But looking at Sean's face, the unwonted seriousness, the steady gaze of green eyes, David realized they'd have to try.

Sean continued to watch David, saying nothing, apparently content to wait. When David looked at Viggo, he was watching Sean.

Nobody spoke.

Closing his eyes, David could feel his heart pounding. He tugged against the ropes that bound his wrists, feeling how Sean and Viggo were pressed against him. Viggo had not used the breakaway knots again, not that David planned on insisting. But this was impossible.

"Untie me," he said.

"Is that an order," Sean said lightly.

"Stop it, Sean," Viggo said, leaning over David to untie his wrists.

When his wrists were free, David opened his eyes, sat up, and leaned down to untie his ankles. From that position, it took only a moment to roll onto his knees, moving out from between Sean and Viggo, and to slide off the bed.

Not looking at either of them, he crossed to the corner of the room where his bag sat, pulled out a clean pair of jeans. He then turned to face them.

Sean was in the same position, cross-legged on the bed. But Viggo had shifted, was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking as if he would stand. Both were watching David.

"I'll be back," he said, crossing to the door that led to the sitting room. Going to the bathroom would have meant walking right by the bed. Shutting the door behind him, David unwrapped the towel and dropped it on the floor, then pulled on his jeans. He listened a moment, heard nothing, so went into the kitchen. There was bottled water in the small refrigerator, and he pulled a cold bottle out, twisted the cap off and drank. Thought for a moment about asking them to come out of the bedroom to talk, then remembered what had happened on the couch.

It probably didn't matter where they were, he thought. He went over to the closed door, breathed deeply once or twice, and opened it. 

Viggo was sitting next to Sean, one hand wrapped around his arm. When David walked into the room, Viggo released Sean. David sat on the bed, careful to move to the center, about the same distance away from both Viggo and Sean.

"Now we can talk," David said.

"I've said what I want to, for now," Sean said. "So unless Viggo wants to say something, it's over to you."

David looked at Viggo who was still sitting beside Sean. Viggo shook his head, shrugged.

David rotated the water bottle in his hands, the coolness soothing. 

Part of the problem was that after they had finished shooting, they'd all left for other projects and could not see each other except for a few intense but brief times. The premiers, a few weekends, the two vacations, and now this mostly public event. That they kept coming together must mean something. David just wasn't sure what it meant to him, let alone to Sean and Viggo. Or how it had all changed from just a fun vacation in England to--whatever this was.

And, David realized, it didn't matter how long he sat there, they weren't going to say anything.

He kept his eyes on the bottle. "I think you're right, Sean. Last time, that time you went inside and Viggo and I were on the porch. We talked. Viggo said I seemed to be different, act differently with you." David looked at Viggo, afraid to put words in his mouth, but Viggo only nodded. 

"I said then, if there was a difference, I thought it had to do with, well, how each of you responds. How much you enter into a scene." Looking back at Sean, David continued. "I said, I thought you suspended disbelief more, entered into them more, than Viggo did. And that might be the difference."

Sean tilted his head. "I think that's right. Most of the time. But that doesn't seem to explain what happened after. When I came back outside."

"Then," David struggled with how to build the next sentence. "I didn't say anything about--Viggo decided to--it's complicated. When we talked afterwards, he said," David stumbled to a halt, looked at Viggo.

"I felt David enters more into the scenes than I do. Nearly as much as you. And that he wanted more of your kind of dominance."

Relieved, David nodded.

"That's interesting," Sean said. "David, did you think he was right, that night? Was that why you left?"

David shut his eyes, nodded again. He could feel the tension singing through his body, was desperately glad he wasn't lying between Viggo and Sean. The bottle crumpled between his hands, and he made himself loosen his grip.

"Do you still think so?" 

Shocked, David opened his eyes. He could read nothing in Sean's tone of voice, or his face. He sat quietly next to Viggo, unusually still, green eyes steady, intent on David. "Yes."

"Viggo, do you still think you're right?" Sean did not look away from David.

"Yes."

"Because what's interesting is I would have said the opposite."

David frowned. "That I don't want that kind of dominance?" 

"Not that. That's another issue. For now, if we're talking about your attitude toward a game or a scene, I'd say you tend more toward a conscious performance, a very good performance, hot as hell, in fact, but, to use your language, not entering into it. Not submerging yourself in the role. Just the opposite."

David sat, mouth open, not sure what to say.

Sean smiled at him, gestured, and seemed familiar again. "I've wondered what it would be like if you gave up some of the surface performance, didn't seem to be thinking about it so often, just let yourself react."

"I don't know what you mean," David said.

"Neither do I," said Viggo. "Although it sounds to me like this difference is more about how each of us approaches acting than about David."

Laughing, Sean reached over and cuffed Viggo's arm. "How many rounds did we go when we were filming? Forty? Fifty? You know I'm right."

Viggo shook his head, turned around to pull a pillow out from under the bedspread, put it against the headboard and and leaned back. "You have your theory, and I have mine. But what does that have to do with David who tends, I think, to agree with me?"

"Then you're both wrong, and I'll convince you someday." Sean said, putting his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his hands. "But not now. David, what do you think?"

"About what?" 

"Do you do the Method Thing?" Sean's intonation supplied capitals along with italics and probably scare quotes, David thought.

"I don't call it that, exactly," David said. "But I agree with Viggo."

"When you're acting?" 

David nodded.

"And in the games, the scenes? With us? Do you do the same thing?"

"Of course," David started, then stopped, stunned. Did he? He rubbed his forehead, hand damp from the condensation on the bottle. "I don't know. Maybe." 

"And maybe not?" Sean's voice was surprisingly gentle. "Maybe some examples would help?"

"Examples?"

"Mine. From watching you. Two, I think." Sean thought a moment, tapping his lip with one finger. "In Idaho, on the porch, you begging. And last night, after we ran into Andy the first time, and he left."

Shaking his head, David watched Sean who sat up straight, shrugged. "I thought the first was a nicely planned and delivered performance. But last night, then, and a couple of other times, you just--responded. Not working out what to do, not planning it. It was different. But good."

"This is starting to sound like some sort of workshop," Viggo said. "And I still don't see your point."

"I think David does," Sean said. He glanced at Viggo, smiled, and asked, "Do you remember David begging us on the porch?"

"Yes."

"Thought you might. Do you agree?"

Viggo hesitated. "I told David then that he seemed to enjoy it too much. If that's what you mean, then yes. But--"

"Good enough," Sean said. "But you weren't there last night, so I'm trying to think of another time--"

"You don't need to," Viggo said slowly. "I think I know what you mean."

David felt himself turning red as he stared at Viggo.

"Was I there?"

"No."

"Can you remember any time I was?"

Viggo hesitated, then shook his head. "Not right now," he said. "Maybe later."

"David?"

"What?" 

"Do you think you do the same sort of acting, submerging yourself, in the scenes, or not?"

David shook his head, helpless. "I don't know," he said. "But I don't think I will be anytime soon, even if I did before." He wasn't sure at this point he could dredge up any sort of performance.

"I might have an idea about that," Sean said. "But I need to know whether you want more or different kinds of dominance, or whether you want to be more dominant. I think I understand what happened in Idaho. And that you and Viggo both think that you want more dominance?"

"Yes." David could be sure about one thing, that he did not want to be dominant. 

"To go deeper into the whole submissive space?"

David could only nod.

"Well then," Sean grinned. "I have an idea."

Why was he not surprised, David thought, and waited for Sean to explain.

"But first," Sean turned to Viggo. "Are you willing to go along with me on this?"

"I'd want to know more about what I'm supposed to be going along with first."

"Fair enough." Sean stretched his legs out and rolled over to lie on his side, facing Viggo. "Sometimes I've seen you go over the top, so to speak, without warning. That could be a problem in the kind of scenario I'm thinking about."

"Is this about last night still?" Viggo smiled, but David thought his tone was serious.

"No, actually, it's not. That was interesting, and I wouldn't mind something along those lines again, David improvising under your direction. Would you David?"

"Yes. I mean, no, I wouldn't mind." David shifted, his jeans feeling harsh against his skin. He could feel the strain in muscles, but did not want to move.

"Especially if it means I get Faramir again. But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about that time in England. And Idaho. And I'd bet David knows exactly the times I'm talking about."

"Do you, David?"

"I think so."

Viggo looked from David to Sean, and said, "So what do you want me to do, if, and remember it's still if, I agree?"

"Stay in the limits. Don't try to top. Follow my lead. Just for the game. If it doesn't work, we can always try something else."

"All right. Now tell us what your idea is."

Sean sat up again, moving closer to David, close enough to lay a warm hand on his ankle. Sitting had caused David's jeans to ride up slightly and he wore no shoes. Sean's fingers tightened, his thumb making gentle circles on David's skin.

"You did enjoy the game last night, at the party?"

"Yes." He hadn't thought he would, but something about last night had affected him strongly. Whatever it was had carried over from the party to when they had come back to the room. 

"I thought so. And that's my idea, to extend the game beyond the room, beyond just sex. You can do bondage or dom/sub games just for sex, like an accessory. Foreplay. And that's fine. If you want to go deeper, extending the game is one way to go."

"One way?" David couldn't help asking.

"Oh, there's always more than one way. Another is more extreme sensation. But I didn't think you'd be interested in that. Not knowing your rules." 

David decided to be careful about what questions he asked in future. 

After waiting a moment, watching David, Sean continued. "I thought so. But it's possible to go deeper into the game, the space, by expanding the boundaries the way we did last night. In public."

"Only if people are stupid or blatant about the scenario. You didn't even realize a game was going on last night, did you? Not until David talked. And if you didn't realize, knowing what you know, what are the odds of anyone else figuring it out?"

Viggo half nodded, half shrugged, but David saw the faint frown disappear. 

"Your idea is to do the same thing again tonight," asked Viggo.

"More or less." 

"David? Do you want to do this?"

David drew a deep breath, held it, then released. The event planned for tonight was a smaller event, not the media circus of last night. Sean's hand lay lightly on his ankle, no pressure. "I think so. Yes."

Viggo said, "I'm still not sure about this, but I'll agree to it. Once."

Sean smiled, lifted his hand.

"So, where were we," he said.

Rubbing his forehead, David yawned. "No. I need to get some sleep," he said. "Or I won't be going anywhere tonight."

"But--" Sean said as Viggo swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and hauled Sean after him. 

"I think we can adjourn to the other room," Viggo said. "So David can sleep."

"I thought we could--"

"We'll wake you in a couple of hours," Viggo said as he tugged a protesting Sean over to and through the door. 

David smiled as he heard the voices outside the door suddenly cease. He stood, unzipped and kicked off his jeans, and crawled under the covers.

* * * * * * *

"Harder, goddamnit!"

What was Sean yelling about? David tried to pull the covers over his head, but tug as he might, nothing happened. Confused, he uncurled from around the pillow, rolled over on his back. He realized the bed was moving. He forced his eyes open, yawning, and looked over to see Viggo. And Sean.

Not sleeping. Wrestling. A moment later, swimming closer to awareness, David realized they weren't wrestling. Although it may have started that way. 

Viggo was wound around Sean, who was on his hands and knees, head down, face hidden by his longer hair, back arched. The springs creaked as Viggo straightened, gripping Sean's hips, holding him in order to thrust harder, faster. 

Hardening, David rolled onto his side, rubbed his eyes.

Neither seemed aware he was awake, intent on each other, movements quickening, their skin gleaming, breathing harsh in the quiet room.

"Fuck!"

Sean bucked under Viggo who wrapped his arms around Sean as he spread his legs and arms, to collapse, shuddering under Viggo's weight. 

Viggo continued to move quickly, then stilled, body tense, hips jerking, buried as deeply in Sean as possible, David thought, wrapping a hand around his cock. The sight and sounds and smell aroused him so much that only a few strokes were needed.

The bed stopped moving as the two lay in a tangle. 

David wiped his hand on the sheets.

Moments later, Sean pushed the hair out of his face and elbowed Viggo. "He's awake!"

Viggo rolled off Sean and sat beside him, still breathing hard.

Leaning up on one arm, Sean reached over, sliding his hand under the covers to grip David's arm.

"When did you wake up?"

"When you were shouting 'Harder,' why?" David tugged against Sean's grip, trying to twist away.

"Well, shit." Sean released David and flopped back on the bed. "You give the phrase 'sleeping like the dead' a whole new meaning, so I didn't think you'd wake up at all. Did you, Viggo?"

"I hadn't ever thought about it and didn't really care," Viggo said. "It was your theory you wanted to test."

David rolled over on his stomach, bunching the pillow up to lie on. "Your theory?"

Sean shrugged. "Just wondering what a person could do before you woke up," he said. "Are you sure none of your lovers have been necrophiliacs?"

David shook his head and laughed. He felt great, relaxed and warm. He'd slept deeply during the nap. And this was not a bad way to be woken up. Much better than the three loud alarm clocks he set when he was working and had morning calls. 

"If they were, I never knew it. How long was I asleep anyway?" he asked.

"A couple of hours," Viggo said. "It's about time to start getting ready if we're going to the party tonight."

"We could all shower together, save some time," Sean said brightly.

"We could if it would in fact save any time," Viggo said. "But it won't. So why don't you go first?"

"All right," Sean said. He stretched leisurely, then got off the bed and stood, pushing his hair back, then turned and strolled to the bathroom. "Have fun!"

The door shut behind him.

Viggo stretched out on the bed, resting his chin on his folded arms, watching David.

Silence. 

"Can you tell me what it was about last night that was different?"

"I haven't figured it out yet myself," David said. 

"Because I was surprised by what happened with Faramir."

"So was I, and with hardly any tequila." David looked away from Viggo.

"David." 

The quiet voice pulled David's head around. "I have a question," he said.

"What?"

"Earlier when you said you knew what Sean meant?"

Viggo nodded.

"What were you thinking about?" David tensed, shoulders tight, as he waited for Viggo's answer. 

"The camping trip."

"Oh." David relaxed. 

"Why?"

"I just--that's what I thought you'd say."

"Do you really want to do this tonight? It's not just for Sean?"

"No. It's not."

Viggo watched him, silent, then nodded. "I don't understand, but I guess it can't hurt anything. And afterwards, maybe we can figure out this whole issue of performance."

* * * * * * *

David stepped out of the shower and pulled the last towel off the rack. The bathroom was steamy and warm from three showers in a row, smelling strongly of Sean's Givenchy which David saw had been left uncapped. Standing on the damp bathmat, David toweled himself dry. 

The soft towel rasped over his skin, each stroke defining some new level of emotion. Fear, perhaps, was part of it. But only a small part. Mingled with the fear was anticipation and the memory of last night sounding deep in flesh and bone. He could feel the beat of his heart, and every motion he made seemed to be slower than normal, significant. He could not remember when he had last felt this way.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, David screwed the cap back on the cologne bottle then opened the door. Viggo, already dressed in dark shirt and trousers, not jeans, was sitting in the chair, Sean was lying sprawled across the rumpled bed, his back to the bathroom.

"--do you understand?" Sean asked.

"No, but maybe I will after tonight." Viggo looked up, nodded at David, and Sean turned, smiled.

"That was faster than I expected," he said, and stood. Crossing to the desk where his bag was sitting, he zipped it open and began to rummage through. He was wearing dark colours as well, a different but equally well cut suit. But his shirt was open at the neck, and he was not wearing a tie.

David left the door open for the bathroom to air out and stood just outside, watching Sean. And Viggo.

"Here we are. What I thought is, each of us would put one on," Sean said, tossing the handful of leather straps onto the bed and zipping his bag. "And we can talk about the rules for tonight."

Picking up one of the longer straps, draping it around his neck, Sean came around the bed to stand in front of David. David smelled the fragrance that had filled the bathroom but softer and mingled with the resonance of Sean's own scent. 

Sean reached out and grasped David's upper arms. "Stand here."

David let Sean guide him stage right and back until he stood against the cool wall. 

"Arms up." The large hands slid down and under David's wrists, and Sean guided his arms up, above his shoulder, then angled in so that his hands were clasped behind his head. "Good." Sean moved forward, his hands dropping down to grasp David's hips.

David relaxed, head pillowed on his hands, body trapped between the wall and Sean's. Sean took David's mouth in a hard kiss, probing and long. Closing his eyes, David lost himself in the touch and taste of tongue and lips, the movement of calloused hands on bare skin, the feel of smooth cloth that masked but did not hide Sean's strength, the leather strap pressing against the skin of his chest. 

Sean pulled back. "David. Look at me."

David opened his eyes. Sean was standing close, no contact save for his hands on David's hips. Pulling the end of the towel loose, Sean tugged on it, nap rasping against David's skin. The fabric was caught between David's body and the wall, so David tried to move forward, but Sean pushed him back. "Don’t move unless I tell you," he said.

Sean pulled the towel free and dropped it on the floor, then stood, a hand on the wall on either side of David's body. 

"Do you remember the harness, David?"

David shuddered, hardening at the memory, nodded.

Sean looked down and smiled, then back up, eyes intent on David's. "Damn, I wish I'd packed it. Oh, well. Keep that in mind. We'll be in public, so it will be different, but only on the surface. In this sort of public space, you have to drop the performative aspects--eyes, stance, the ritualized responses. So the challenge is to make sure that the game works even under these circumstances. You're ours. You have to be with one of us all night. It will be like you're on a leash even though nobody else can see it. We'll know. You can't be more than five feet away from one of us. Whatever we say to you, no matter how it's phrased, is an an order, understand? It might sound like a question, an idle comment, but you know, and we know, that your only response is 'Yes, Master' even though you can't and won't ever say it out loud. So that's part of your challenge, to make it work in public. You are totally submissive, but nobody else can know. Understand?"

David nodded, swallowing against the beating of his heart.

Sean set his hands back on David's waist, took two steps back, then bent forward to lick David's right nipple. Warm and wet, at first gentle laps, the tip of his tongue moving fast over David's skin, then harder, full and soft, velvet rasps that roused David, all his attention centered on hardening flesh. Sean released him to blow softly on the wet skin, laughing as David tried to twist away. Moving to the other side, harder at the start, tongue pressing against him, subtle shifts in pressure, hands holding David still against the wall. 

Then a breath away, speaking softly, air puffing against David's skin. "I told you last night what I'm going to do." 

Sean 's hands tugged his hips out from the wall, then left him to pull the strap from around his neck. Stepping closer, Sean's arms circled David, holding the strap between his two hands, behind him. David could feel it, smooth and taut against his lower back.

Sean slid his hands apart, the leather against David's skin, and pulled forward, binding David's lower body against his, hips grinding against him, Sean's erection plain to feel under the smooth cloth. 

David's eyes shut, his head tilting back even more, excitement burning through his body.

  
The leather slid up David's body, wound around his chest, pressing against his erect nipples. Tightened. 

He exhaled, a long breath, then opened his eyes to see Sean's face close to his.

"Breathe in and out a couple of time, normally."

David snorted, but tried. Sean waited through several breaths, then fastened the leather. 

"Too tight?"

Experimentally, David took a breath. It wasn't too tight, but the pressure did keep him from inhaling as deeply as he could. "I don't know," he said. "I can't quite--"

"You won't be able to breathe normally," Sean said. He ran his fingers over the strap, across David's chest. "That's part of it. But it shouldn't constrict you too much."

David concentrated on breathing deeper in his lungs, an elementary exercise for actors and singers. Most people worked off the top part of their lungs, did not fully inhale.

"It's all right," he said. 

Sean stepped back. "Put your arms down, stand normally."

  
David didn't even bother to respond to that one beyond dropping his arms and straightening. The leather had warmed against his body. With his arms at his side, he could feel the leather more, consciously, he decided. It was tight around his chest, rubbed against the inner sensitive skin on his arms. He would be much more aware of this strap than he had been of the others for most of last night. He shifted, feeling awkward, not sure what to do with his hands, finally settled for clasping them behind his back.

Sean's eyes darkened, but he stepped back and to the side, sitting near the head of the bed. "Viggo?"

Viggo stood. David watched him as he stood, wondering what he thought, what he would do, what would happen this night.

Viggo moved easily, not fast, around the bed, to stand in front of David. Circling his throat loosely with both hands, thumbs overlapping in front, Viggo spoke softly. "Here."

"Remember what I said about going over the top? Even if David brought a turtleneck, I don't think putting a collar on him is a good idea. Andy would sure as hell know what it meant, even if nobody else did. And I'd take a bet there'd be others."

Viggo grinned widely, thumbs moving against David's skin. "You don't know for sure, Sean? I'm surprised to hear that."

Shaking his head, Sean looked up, blew out a long breath. "No. I don't. But remember you agreed. Around the wrist, maybe, you could get away with."

Viggo shrugged, dropped his hands, and turned away. 

"As you said, that's no fun." Stepping over to the bed, evading Sean's mock blow,Viggo bent over the small pile of leather straps. Without moving, David tried but failed to see what one he chose.

When Viggo turned back to David, he held the leather strap folded in one hand. 

"Spread your legs."

Eyes on Viggo's face, David obeyed, widening his stance by one pace, his feet more or less in line with his shoulders.

"More." 

David wondered at the the quirk of Viggo's lips as he spoke. Not quite a smile. David stepped further out, legs widely spread, feeling off balance. He tried to center his weight as Viggo stepped closer to him, hands dropping.

"Close your eyes."

Viggo's breath was warm on his face. David shut his eyes, stood as still as he could as the leather strap trailed down his chest, down his belly, caressing his erection. David couldn't help tensing, muscles clenched, thrusting forward as fire burned through him.

"You're better at this than I thought you'd be," Sean said.

Neither David nor Viggo spoke.

The leather lifted from David's skin, and Viggo did not touch him for several moments. Finally, David felt the strap against the back of his left thigh, moving up until it pressed against his body, tightening around him. David jumped, had to take half a step to regain his balance, as Viggo tugged the strap higher and fastened it. 

"Open your eyes."

David did. 

Viggo placed his hands on David's shoulders, stood silent a moment, then tilted his head. "First rule, no alcohol of any sort. Second, no talking to Andy."

"What?" 

  
"There's no way I'm going to take this public if you're drinking. And I don't think we should either, Sean."

"Fine with me."

"That's not what I mean." David felt annoyed, shifted his stance until he was standing normally. "Not talking to Andy? Won't that seem obvious? And tip him off?"

"From what you and Sean said last night, he already knows. But you're right."

Viggo stepped back, hands moving to his pockets. "All right. No talking to Andy alone."

David opened his mouth to ask what Viggo was thinking about, but Sean rolled off the bed and stood. "That sounds good to me."

Casually, Sean moved between Viggo and David, forcing David to step back, the wall cool against his skin. Sean pressed against him, hand sliding down to grip his cock, hard, leaning forward, lips warm against David's ear.

"Next time, I have a cock and ball harness I think I'll try on you."

Before David could respond, Sean released him, stepped back, and said "So let's get out of here!"

"I assume you mean after David dresses," Viggo said drily.

"If you insist. I'll go call for the car." 

Before Sean could get through the door, Viggo said, "Call for some more towels as well."

David walked across the room feeling as if he was on a stage. And not only naked but not knowing his lines.

"There might be more to this than I thought," Viggo said, settling down in the chair.

David followed Viggo across the room, walking beside Sean. The leather wound around David's chest and thigh made him feel as if he was walking differently. The dryness in his throat, the hollow feeling in his chest and stomach, brought back half-forgotten days when he was starting to get his first jobs. But worse. David felt as if everyone was watching him. He assured himself that nobody would notice anything, that everybody was concentrating on their own drink, their own conversation, their own image. 

Sliding through large group of people, none of whom looked at him, David thought that at least staying close to Sean and Viggo had not been a problem in the crowded room. You had to stand close to hear each other talk.

The ride from the hotel had seemed to go on forever. Nobody had spoken except the driver to confirm what time he would be picking them up later. David had forced himself to sit still, breathing slowly, trying to calm himself. He was wearing the loosest pair of jeans he had with him, and a shapeless white cotton shirt. The clothing, loose and soft as it was, rasped against his skin, feeling too tight, binding him. 

The look might look be out of synch with Viggo and Sean's darker more formal clothing, but he could already see the same kind of range that the cast and crew had always shown in the groups around him, ranging from high fashion and ultra formal to casual and funky.

He felt off balance. He felt as if he was trying to learn some complex new role. No, not a role. Nothing that simple, nothing set out in words neatly arranged on a page. More like a dance, one that was already in motion and had to be learned on the floor, no chance to practice. 

David paused a moment to hug Liv and admire her dress then had to hurry to catch up with the others. He was paying so much attention following Sean and Viggo that his usual anxiety about public events was fading. But the moment with Liv showed him something he had not anticipated. As he waved to Liv, David realized his earlier relief that tonight's event wasn't for the international media but for the cast and crew, including locals who'd been extras, who were in for the premier, may have been misleading. He always felt as if he was performing for the media. But this walking a balance beam between playing the covert scene with his lovers and interacting with his friends had the potential to hit a false note.

"Viggo!"

Looming through the crowd, wearing what David thought was an extreme amount of black leather, Lawrence grabbed Viggo in a crushing hug. "It is so good to see you, my friend. Come over here, some orcs want to talk to you!" 

David watched Viggo disappear into the crowd and stepped closer to Sean who looked at him, shook his head, and said, "I don't think the stunt men will be a problem, but I wonder if his no drinking rule will stand if the Rohirrim get ahold of him."

Shrugging, David followed Sean as he started moving through the room again. Closer to the food tables, the crush became extreme as did the noise. 

A few moments later, an eddy in the movement through the room left them standing near one of the bigatures of Minas Tirith, one of many of the set pieces from the film that decorated the room.

"We can wait a while, see if the crowd thins out," Sean said, angling to stand with his back to the table, gestured for David to move back, into the shadow of the city.

David nodded. 

"Can you tell me what happened with you and Faramir last night?" Sean's voice was low, pitched to carry just to David who could not help looking around before answering.

Sean's choice of words gave him some latitude. "I don't know."

"After what happened in Idaho, I didn't expect that."

"Neither did I." David swallowed, looking over Sean's shoulder. Nobody was paying attention to them as far as he could tell. Everyone had seen the models enough times that they no longer drew a crowd. The food was the main focus of everyone's attention. 

"I promised you no more Boromir/Faramir scenes. Does that still hold? Was it Viggo pulling the King of Men bit that changed your mind?"

"Maybe. Partly." David wondered if he was breaking the rules already. "Look, is this the part where I'm just supposed to say yes, no matter what you say? Because if so--"

Grinning, Sean shook his head. "Nope. This time the submission is you having to talk to me. About Boromir and Faramir scenes. And last night."

"Are you saying I don't talk?" David watched Sean's eyes.

"No, you'll talk, but sometimes you slide away." Sean's smile disappeared as he watched David. 

"And you don't?"

Sean stood silent a moment, then nodded, turning one hand palm up. "Fair enough. Maybe I do. But right now we're talking about you and Faramir. You said it was partly Viggo. And?"

Leather tightened around David's chest, catching him in mid-breath. He exhaled, started again. "And partly me." 

When Sean frowned, opened his mouth to speak, David said, "Wait. Just wait. Let me finish. Look, I don't see Faramir wanting sex with his brother. But I watched a bunch of your scenes, working with Peter, when I started. Because you and I hadn't worked together, and Peter was already planning the shots with Boromir."

Nodding, Sean waited a moment before speaking. "And?"

He had to say it, David thought. "And I thought then, I think now, that Boromir's hot. And last night, I guess, last night wasn't that much Faramir. Or acting."

Sean's grin returned, full force, and he took a step forward, green eyes gleaming. "It sure sounded like him. Whatever. So do I have to keep to the promise I made?"

"I'm not sure, but I--," David bit his lip, exhaled. "No, you don't."

"I can live with that. And now," Sean paused, considering David who tensed, feeling the leather against damp skin.

"And now, I think we can get some food." Sean turned and moved toward the buffet table quickly, so quickly David had to hurry to keep within the five foot limit. 

* * * * * * *

"You never!" Elijah said and laughed.

"It's true, just ask her." Richard smiled, swirled the golden liquid in his glass and drank it in one swallow.

"That's the weirdest thing I ever heard."

"Then you must not have been working on the same film I was," Viggo said.

"Hey guys!" Elijah hugged Sean, then David, then turned to point at Richard. "No, I mean, weird personally. Do you know what was the first gift he ever gave his wife? Rats!"

Sean laughed.

After he and David had finished eating, they had started looking for Viggo and had finally found him. With Elijah. And Richard.

Richard turned to set his glass on one a passing waiter's tray. "I told you, we weren't married then. We were maybe fourteen. And they were a pair. I guess I thought it was romantic or something."

Viggo smiled at Richard. "It was," he said.

"It was weird. She must've hated it." Elijah leaned against the wall, standing close to Sean.

"She married him," Sean said.

"In spite of it, I bet."

"And you can ask her what she thought," Richard said.

"I will. Sometime when you're not around," Elijah said. "Besides being weird, it's cheap."

"We weren't all making money when we were fourteen," Richard pointed out. 

"I didn't get to spend it then. And I still could've thought of something better."

"Better how?" Sean tilted his head, looking down at Elijah.

Elijah frowned, thinking.

"When it comes to a courtship gift, it isn't just the money, mind you. It's what a person loves. Say, horses," Sean glanced at Viggo, half smiling. "You want to get them something that shows you know what they love."

"Okay, but…"

"Or there's another way," Viggo said quietly, standing beside David. "It has more to do with luck."

"Luck?" asked David.

"If they love you, they're going to love your gift."

"Even rats?" asked Sean.

Viggo nodded. "Even rats."

"So either Tania loves rats, or she loved Richard?" Elijah's voice sounded doubtful enough to make the others laugh. "Which is it?"

"You'll have to ask her," Richard said. "Sometime when I'm not around. Please."

"I may have to ask her myself," Sean said. "If that was your first gift, what was the second?"

"That, I'm not telling," Richard said firmly. "In fact, I think I'm going to go find her so we can get our stories straight before the inquisition begins." He left as the others laughed.

"I saw Tania when we came in," Elijah said. "And he's going the wrong way. C'mon!"

He tugged Sean's arm.

"What?"

"I want to talk to her first, don't you?"

"All right." Sean let Elijah tug him away from the wall, but, as they left, turned to look at Viggo and David. "I won't be long."

David shook his head, watching Sean follow Elijah through the crowd.

"David."

The note in Viggo's voice pulled David around, the leather straps shifting, tight against him. Viggo stood closer to David than he'd realized, hands in his pockets, watching David. He looked at Viggo, waited.

"If I turned now and walked out of the room, you'd have to follow."

David nodded.

"And I could walk outside, down the street, into one of the alleys, take you up against the wall," Viggo's voice dropped and he tilted his head, pausing a moment before continuing, "like Andy did?"

David tried to swallow, his throat dry. He'd always wondered just what Andy had told Viggo. He tried to speak, coughed, tried again. "I was drunk that night. You know that."

"Except for that, then. You'd follow me. To an alley."

Unnaturally aware of the beat of his heart, of how he was hardening against the soft denim, David nodded.

"Why?"

David took several breaths, as deeply as he could, thinking. "For the same reason as you, if you did it," he said. "Are you going to?"

Viggo shook his head. "It would be stupid."

Relaxing, David felt half relieved, half disappointed, half angry. "Then why ask?"

"To see what you'd say."

"To see what I'd say?" David decided he was about to be more than half angry.

"This, whatever it is," Viggo moved abruptly, hands out of his pockets, chopping at the air, "I don't see the point. Not like this. Not doing this. I want--"

Anger draining away, confused, David waited. There was a different note in Viggo's voice.

"I don't want to be here," Viggo finally said. "Standing around making polite conversation in public. Putting the straps on you, seeing you respond, I wanted to fuck you then and there against the wall, then on the bed. Wanted you on your knees, bound, sucking my cock."

David shut his eyes, shaking. "Can we leave," he managed to say.

"The car won't be back for an hour."

"Then what about that alley," David said, opening his eyes to stare into blueness.

Viggo's hand closed around his arm, and David stepped forward, their bodies almost touching. But before Viggo could speak, a shout jolted them apart.

"Viggo! You've got to come here a minute!"

Stepping back, David bit his lip to avoid swearing. It was Peter.

Dark hair tumbled, glasses sliding down his nose, Peter smiled at David who looked down, involuntarily. Yes, his shoes were on, but the laces were untied.

"Someone I want you to meet," Peter said, gesturing for Viggo to go ahead. "No, David, don't bother, I'll send Viggo back in a minute." Peter smiled, then hurried after Viggo.

David halted, frustrated. He could not help obeying Peter's direction no matter what Sean said. But would Sean accept that?

Maybe Sean wouldn't need to know, if David left. But this was where Viggo would return. 

And Sean.

David had just about decided to go look for a drink since the evening probably couldn't get any worse when he heard a voice from his left.

"All alone?"

Andy.

David turned to look at Andy. He was alone. Fuck.

David shook his head, looked for a way out, but Andy slid closer, moving in front of David, blocking his way. He was dressed more formally than David had seen before, in a red silk shirt and black suit.

"I was just going to have a drink. If you're alone--" Andy's voice trailed off as David backed away.

"David?" A pause. Andy stepped forward. "You're not talking, is that it?"

Watching Andy, David silently cursed Viggo. 

"Is it that you won't talk, or you can't talk? Not without your dom. Doms? Or is it masters tonight? How deep in are you?" 

Andy moved closer, and David stepped back again until stopped by the wall.

David swallowed hard, shoving his hands into his pockets, trying to relax. He could just walk away, he supposed, Sean's rule had already been broken. But nothing would stop Andy from following him. And it was quiet here, they wouldn't be interrupted which was a problem, but it also meant nobody else was likely to hear. And here was where Sean and Viggo'd expect to find him.

The leather around his chest seemed tighter than ever and he concentrated on breathing normally.

Andy watched him closely, smiling, body relaxed, leaning against the wall, an arm's length away. "How ironic. If we were at a club or private party, I'd be breaking all the rules talking to you like this. But we're not at a private club or party. And they're the ones who screwed up, seems to me, leaving you alone. Especially if you're under some rule not to speak?"

David just looked at him, caught, wanting to tell him off and just walk away, not able to. Not yet.

"Sorry. Let's see if I can rephrase that. Could you talk to me if someone else was here?"

David nodded.

"Does the rule apply to everyone?"

David shook his head.

"How fun." Andy ran his hand through his hair which promptly fell over his eyes again. "You can't tell me to shut up since you can't talk. And you can walk away, but I can follow. The situation has definite possibilities. Does Sean know about you and Viggo and me?"

David looked out at the room. 

"Hmm. I'll assume he does the way he acted last night. But I bet he doesn't know why it ended. Do you? Did you ever wonder?"

David looked at Andy before he could catch himself. He had wondered. After the bondage scene with Viggo, Andy had shown up several times for the backrubs David had promised him. Then he had simply stopped.

During the last weeks of filming, everybody had been working so hard to finish on schedule that David hadn't pushed. They were all short of time and energy by the end, and Andy's work had been more demanding than David's. 

Andy watched him a while, then spoke. "Lijah."

That caught David's attention.

Andy smiled. "You were resisting me from the start. You were different with Viggo, but I just didn't have the energy to figure you out then. So much had gone on with Gollum, all the problems that had to be solved, inventing the whole thing from scratch. I came in late with no control at the start. It worked out, and Pete was incredible from the first as if he knew it would. But the uncertainty just went on and on, the fear that this would be the biggest joke ever. And all the meetings."

Andy sighed, leaning more heavily against the wall, looking down, almost as if he was talking to himself. David was fascinated. He could not help it, he'd never seen Andy like this, almost as if all his walls were down. 

"To work so bloody hard and know I'd never be seen on the screen. Thank God Pete wanted me to play Sméagol. I started feeling better after that. It wasn't that I hated Gollum, I started to feel like him. It was almost a joke that night, but a while later, when I saw Dom acting up at the pub, I talked to Elijah. I didn't expect him to agree, not given the problems we'd had when we met, not with how our characters developed, not given the kind of feelings Gollum had for Frodo, not to mention Sméagol. And it was easy for you to say keep Gollum under control, but that wasn't an option by then. And then Elijah said yes."

David shifted uneasily, wanting and not wanting to hear more. He remembered Elijah tied to the bed, pale skin against dark blue sheets, the image blurring with the echo deep inside of how it felt when Andy pushed him against the alley wall, holding him, pounding deep inside.

Andy didn't seem to notice, lost in contemplating his own feet. "I've never had a submissive like him. Never. It was almost frightening, how he trusts. Totally seductive. Enough to make anybody break their own rules."

David knew what that was like. _“How would you like to play ‘Catch the Halfling,’ Elijah asked, sliding under David’s arm._

_“That sounds like fun,” David said. “But specifically...?”_

_Elijah pulled his backpack over and opened it, spilling out a selection of black silk ropes. “Look what I found!”_

_“Another of Liv’s little shops?” David asked wryly._

_“No, Dom’s!”_

_David_ _ sighed. “Figures. Okay—but first, have you ever played this game before.”_

_“No.” Elijah picked up one of the ropes and draped it around David’s neck. “Have you? _ David had played the game before, until it had stopped being a game. And then he'd walked away from it. Until Elijah looked at him and asked. 

Andy was still talking, David realized.

"And how beautiful he is. It's hard to watch some parts of the film because of how much that all comes across."

David waited, sure that Andy was not done. And after several moments, Andy shook his head, looking at David. "So that's why," he said. "And at the end we went our separate ways. As actors always do. Until last night when he talked to me. About Sean."

Straightening, David felt himself flushing. He had not expected that, and fuck the rules. "What did he say?"

"What do you think?" Andy said. "You introduced him to the game. Then he came to me. And now, he thinks he wants Sean." Andy shrugged, reached out to wrap his hand around David's arm, pulling him in front of Andy, close enough to feel the warmth of his body.

"So now do you want to have that drink with me? What I've seen last night and tonight makes me think you've changed as well. Maybe worked out that confusion."

Warned by something, perhaps the scent of cologne, some other quality in the air, David turned just before Sean spoke.

"And if he has changed," Sean said. "I do not think it has anything to do with you."

Sean stood a few feet away, frowning.

David tried to pull away, but Andy's grip tightened. Sean stepped forward, something in his stance, the way he stood to face Andy, reminding David irresistibly of Boromir in Moria before the fight with the Cave Troll.

"Maybe not," said Andy. "But that's for David to say."

"He said no to you last night." Sean moved another step, closing in on Andy and David, arm and shoulder touching David's. "I'm saying no again, now. What else do you need to hear?"

When David had turned a moment ago, he'd ended up standing at a right angle to Andy, trying to pull away. Sean was facing Andy directly, David between them. 

Andy smiled, body relaxed. "An explanation."

David wondered if he didn't see or didn't choose to acknowledge the threat Sean's body language conveyed.

"Of what?"

"Why an invitation for a drink should result in such a response."

Reaching out, Sean grasped Andy's wrist. Neither man moved, but David could feel the pressure Sean was exerting on Andy's arm, could see the twist of Andy's mouth before he finally released David.

"Why? Because you don't just want a drink." Sean slid his left hand up David's back, gripping his shirt and the strap underneath, pulling him around, stepping back beyond Andy's reach. David held his breath, the wave of pleasure at Sean's touch shocking in its intensity.

Andy shrugged. "That may not be all I want, but it's all I was asking David for. David, I assume you can talk now?"

David breathed out, hoped his voice wouldn't reflect his body's response. "Yes."

"No," said Sean.

Silence. David bit his lip, frustrated but unsure if what he could say to Andy would be worth challenging Sean.

Andy said, "Well, then, I'll ask you. Has David signed a contract with you? Giving you this kind of control over him?"

"It's none--," Sean started to speak, but Andy interrupted him.

"Of my business. You said that before. But if he hasn’t, you have no right to speak for David."

"David's choices or his rights are none of your business either."

"Very well," Andy said. "Here's another question. What did Lijah ask you for? I'm sure David's interested in your answer as well."

"If you know to ask that, you know what he asked for," Sean said.

David noted the shift in his tone, the drop in timbre, the emphasis on "you." 

"In that case, I'd think you might want to take me up on my offer." Andy leaned back against the wall, body relaxed, hands in pockets, arms canted out, eyes bright. His smile implied that the conversation was the best he'd had in some time. "I'll take David off your hands for tonight." 

Sean tugged David back another step. "I can't imagine agreeing to any offer you could make," he said.

"And I'll even add Viggo to it," Andy was looking past Sean, his smile growing.

"You can take your offer and--"

"Sean? Andy?"

Viggo's voice cut across Andy and Sean's exchange like Sting through cobwebs. None of them had seen Viggo who was standing several feet away.

Sean released David and turned. "Why did you leave David alone?"

"Peter wanted me to meet some people. Why?"

Before Sean or David could respond, Andy said, "Sean's pissed because I was talking to David. Even though David was obeying the rule not to talk to me. Mostly."

Viggo did not move or speak, taking his time looking at Andy and Sean, then back to David who found it surprisingly hard to meet his eyes.

"Mostly?"

David nodded. "I asked a question," he said, wary of saying more.

"About Lijah," Andy said.

Viggo turned, abruptly, to stare at Andy. "About &lt;i&gt;Elijah&lt;/i&gt;? Why would he ask you about Elijah?"

"Sean knows," Andy gestured toward Sean.

Silence. Viggo looked at Sean. 

Finally, Sean shrugged. "He's looking for a game. I told him no."

"And I said Sean might want to reconsider my offer," Andy said. 

"So you can have David?" Viggo closed in, cutting between Sean and Andy. "No."

"And you. For auld lang syne, you might say."

David wondered if Andy's tone could be any more insulting, the drawl and raised eyebrow marking the slow enunciation of the words.

"Although apparently things have changed since David used to be able to talk for himself," Andy added. 

Viggo braced himself, arm out, holding Sean back. "As I recall, your rule used to be that it's over when the film's over. Apparently that's changed too."

Andy opened his mouth, hesitated.

David twisted, freeing himself from Sean's grip which had loosened, stepped forward to touch Viggo's arm.

Viggo looked at him.

"I want to talk to Andy," David said. "Alone." He waited. Told himself it was not an order, he'd only said what he wanted. Sean and Viggo could respond as they chose,but how they responded would tell David something important.

Sean started to shake his head but stopped when Viggo put a hand on his arm. Viggo looked at David who looked back. It had been Viggo's rule after all. David didn't think Sean would have thought of it. 

Finally, Viggo nodded. "Very well. We'll be by the door. Join us when you're finished."

"Viggo!"

"It was my rule, Sean. Doesn't that mean I can change it?"

"Shit, Viggo, don't do this." Sean's voice rose.

"Don't do what? I trust David. And as far as I can tell, it's the only way to end this."

"I can think of other ways."

"Fine. We'll talk about them while we're waiting for David." Nodding at Andy, Viggo turned to gesture Sean to walk ahead of him. Sean looked at David, then shrugged and left, followed by Viggo.

David watched until he could no longer see them, then turned back to Andy who smiled, straightened, extending a hand to David.

David stepped back. "No. Don't touch me. I said talk. That's all."

Andy hesitated, then stepped back, sliding his hand back into his pocket. "Then talk," he said. And waited. 

David rubbed his head, looking down, thinking. He had to get this right. Looked back up at Andy. "I think you're right," he said. "About some things. I don't know if I was confused when we were filming, I don't think I was. I'm trying to work some things out now." Given what had happened the past couple of days, David thought confused wasn't a strong enough word for what he was feeling.

"You were resisting me back then, right? Pushing? Trying to stay on top?"

David nodded. "Yes. But not because I was confused."

"You didn't resist Viggo," Andy said quietly.

Wordless, David shook his head. He didn't want to talk about that.

Andy watched David, the long silence an invitation.

"And then Sean came back for filming. And that's when it got confusing." David did not want to say what had to be said, but it was the truth. "When I asked you back to my place that night, it was mostly because of Sean."

Andy nodded. "I know. I was watching."

"So did Sean," David said grimly. 

"That was then. Why not say yes now?"

"You said it first, it's over. And I don't want to try to start again. I think you said once that sometimes being dominant or submissive is more about the people you're with. I've known people who are so intense about the ritual, the rules, that's their whole focus, everything has to be done just so, nobody stepping out of their role. That can be nice and safe, those limits." David took a deep breath, forced himself on. "And that's where I used to be."

"You didn't mention any rules that night."

"I know. That's when it started changing. Because of Sean. And Viggo."

"So Sean comes back for a few days pick-up filming, there's some hot sex, and you decide that everything's changed? David, that's--"

"It wasn't just a few days. We've spent more time together."

"Still, you're in a dangerous space," Andy said. "You could be confusing the game with the people. Look at Sean and Viggo. Two dominants. And do you have any idea of what was going on when Sean and Viggo were working together, what happened when they started fucking?"

"No. But I don't think it matters." Remembering some of what happened in Idaho, David knew he didn't believe what he was saying. But he could not talk about that to Andy. 

"Sean's different from Viggo, he's more into the game, but that's safer because I think he'd be willing to set rules and abide by them. But is Viggo?"

Caught by a note in Andy's voice, David frowned. "Maybe you know the answer better than I do," he said. "I know about you and Viggo. But what went on between you and Sean anyway?"

"Ask Sean," Andy said. "I'm wondering just what you're doing in all this? How much are you going to give up? It sounds to me like you think it's love. But how much have you done with other dominants, how do you know it's not just playing the role, being in the submissive space, rather than who you're playing with?"

David shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. But I don't think you can help me. And what about Elijah?"

"What do you mean?"

"How much of this is about Elijah and what he asked Sean? Should you be talking to Elijah instead of me?"

Andy looked at David in silence, eyes narrowed. "And that's none of your business," he said, turned and walked away.

David watched him go, then leaned against the wall, shutting his eyes. After a few moments, he realized that it wasn't helping. He was going to have to go face Sean and Viggo. 

* * * * * * *

They waited for the elevator in silence. 

David had easily found Viggo and Sean by the door, but Viggo had refused to let him answer Sean's questions in public. So they had stood without speaking until the car came, ridden in silence back to the hotel. 

It was late enough that the lobby was almost empty, full of the echoing sounds of hotels at night, sounds that apparently come from nowhere and are heard by no one. When the elevator doors opened, the car was empty. They entered, David and Viggo first, then Sean.

Viggo slid the keycard in and out of the slot, the doors closed. 

Sean swung to face David, hand closing on the front of his shirt and the strap, pushing him against the back wall, pinning him. "Talk, David." Sean's breath was warm against David's face.

"Not here," Viggo said.

"It's the express car. What did you say to Andy?"

David felt his heart pounding, the tightening strap causing him to pant, breaths short and shallow. He wet his lips.

"I explained why no meant no," he said. 

"And why does no mean no?" Sean moved against him.

"Because it's not about the game or the roles but about the people," David said. 

"And what did Andy say to that?" Sean still pressed against David but had stopped moving.

"He thinks I'm confusing my feelings about the role with feelings for people."

Silence filled the elevator for a moment, then Sean said, "Doesn't sound as if it's ended to me, Vig."

Viggo did not speak as the doors opened. He stepped out into the hall, holding the doors, looking both ways. "Get into the room. Now."

Sean stepped back. David managed one breath before Sean pulled him forward. The room was close enough that David had barely time to feel nervous about being seen before Viggo had opened the door and Sean led David through.

Sean pulled David forward, released him to slide behind and push him further into the room. David let Sean guide him around the couch. 

"Stand still," Sean ordered, releasing him long enough to push the coffee table aside. Then returning to David, Sean tugged his shirt up. Obedient, David raised his arms so Sean could pull it off over his head. 

Tossing the shirt aside, Sean turned back to stand in front of David, to slide his hands inside the waistband of David's jeans. Sean waited, a challenge gleaming in the green eyes, face absolutely serious. Feeling tremors in the muscles of his belly and thighs, David bowed his head, stood absolutely still as Sean unbuttoned the jeans, opening them, pulling them down over David's hips. The cooler air of the room flowed over heated skin.

"Take them off," Sean ordered.

David shoved the jeans down, kicked them off one leg at time, shoving them aside with one foot.

"On your knees."

David dropped easily to his knees on the thick carpet, Sean moving behind him to set his hands firmly on David's shoulders.

"You broke the rules, David. What do you have to say about that?"

Sean tugged David back until he was leaning against Sean's legs, the material of his trousers smooth against David's skin. One hand slid around the base of David's neck, circling it, thumb and fingers stroking the sides of his neck. Sean's other hand moved down David's chest to the strap, and David arched his back, closing his eyes.

"Nothing."

Sean's hand paused. "&lt;i&gt;Nothing&lt;/i&gt;?"

David shrugged under Sean's hands. "I broke the rules. There's nothing else to say."

Sean's hand pushed under the strap, fingers pinching his left nipple. David gasped for breath, so hard, his body tensing against Sean's legs. 

"What do you have to say, Viggo?"

"About what?" 

"David breaking the rules."

David heard footsteps, and when Viggo next spoke, he was in front of David, and close.

"Peter wanted me to meet some people, told David not to come with us. The next time Peter asks you to do something, are you going to say no? Because if you are, I want to sell tickets."

David felt as well as heard Sean's laughter. 

"A good point. So that one won't count. But what about David talking to Andy? And wanting to talk to him alone?"

"David?"

Opening his eyes, David looked up at Viggo. 

"How did it actually end with Andy?"

"I asked him whether he should be talking to Elijah instead of me, and he told me it was none of my business and walked away."

  
Frowning, Viggo said, "Elijah? What does Elijah have to do with Andy?"

Sean snorted. "He gave Andy as a reference."

"What?"

"Concerning bondage games."

"Near the end of filming, Andy got involved with Elijah," David said, not wanting to hear any more of what Elijah had told Sean.

"With Elijah?" Viggo shook his head. 

David nodded. "That's why he just disappeared there near the end. It was Elijah."

"I don’t know where that boy gets the time or energy."

"Being in your twenties helps," Sean said.

What would Sean have been like then, David wondered, trying to imagine him having any more energy. It didn't seem possible.

"So is it ended or not?" asked Viggo.

"I don't know," David said. "I can't tell what Andy thinks. He seemed angry."

"Fuck Andy," Sean said. "Metaphorically speaking. I don't want to talk about him any more."

"Maybe David does."

David closed his eyes, rested his head against Sean's body. "No." 

"Or about what you said to Andy?"

David shook his head. No more talking, he thought, there'd been too much already. Much better to drown thought in sensation, to leave questions behind, for a while.

"Go get the rest of the straps and the blindfold. And the lube," Sean said, hands moving over David's chest, running up his throat to his face.

Steps sounded and a door opened as David waited in darkness.

"I didn't bring the harness, but I can improvise," Sean said. "And you want the blindfold, don't you?"

David nodded, feeling his heart pounding.

Then, his voice shifting to Boromir's, Sean continued. "If I strip you and bind you, brother, what will you do?"

David concentrated on Faramir's voice, his physicality, remembered looking up at Boromir during the scene in Osgiliath, the utter trust and love. "Whatever you wish."

"Whatever I command?"

"Whatever you command."

"Stand." 

Sean pushed David forward, and David stood.

"Very good, brother," Sean said, arms circling David from behind, one hand wrapping around David's erection. "Very, very good."

  
Dry warmth enfolded David, pressure increasing until pleasure nearly tipped into pain, snatching his breath before it left his body. Then, the hand released him, leaving David leaning against Sean until he heard footsteps again.

"Give those to me and hold him."

Sean slid away, replaced by Viggo whose hands gripped David's arms further down, body pressing against David. Feeling the hardness against him, David could not resist leaning back, rubbing against him. Viggo's hands tightened, and David smiled.

Warm softness settled against his face, Sean's hands delicately adjusting the blindfold, then sliding down to hold his head still for a kiss, the only contact Sean's hands and mouth. 

Blindly, David strained forward, was held back by Viggo. Warmth blazed into heat as Sean's mouth moved down, licking and sucking, over David's neck, then further, teeth closing on the strap around his chest, scraping against his skin. David arched forward, pulling Viggo forward a step, causing Sean's hands to drop to his hips as Sean pressed against David, pushing him back against Viggo, and as suddenly, released him. David stood, trembling.

Smoothness settled around David's neck. "For the King," Sean said, fastening the strap snugly, running a finger under it, tugging.

"And for the Steward." 

One strap bound David's upper arms firmly to his sides, then another his lower arms. He concentrated on steadying his breath, pushing away a moment of panic that he could not breathe. A third strap slid behind his thighs, tightened quickly. Almost losing his balance, David tried to gasp as leather wound around his cock, tightening.

Viggo held him up. Sean's hands trailed across and up David's belly to his arms.

"Give him to me," Sean said.

Viggo released David.

Sliding around behind him, Sean wrapped himself around David, hands stroking, tantalizing, teasing hardening flesh until David writhed against him. It was too much. It was not enough. 

Pulling away from Sean, dropping to his knees, David bowed his head. "Please, brother," he said. 

One hand settled on his head. "You said whatever I wished."

"I beg you. Fuck me."

A pause, and the hand stroked down, once, twice, then lifted away.

David set his teeth and waited, then was confused by the noises he heard. Scuffles, a thump. He felt a cold hard pressure against his thighs. Then hands pressed against his back, slid around to his cock, pushing him forward to lie across what had to be the coffee table.

In the stillness, he could hear other sounds. Zippers. Cloth sliding against cloth. Soft wet sounds painted pictures against the darkness that made him strain against the straps. David waited. Tried to count and lost track. Wondered how long he would be left, if this was Sean's punishment for speaking to Andy.

A hand, he could not tell whose, slick and warm, pressed against his cleft, slowly gliding down, both promising and withholding. David clenched, tried to thrust up, but other hands came down on his back, pressing him down, skin brushing against his shoulder. Somebody was in front of him, someone behind. Gentle strokes teased him, then, slowly, probing, a finger breached him, withdrew. David panted. Waited.

Gliding in slightly deeper this time, the finger twisted in, out. David could feel warm skin brush against his legs, was not sure who was behind, although as the slow movements continued he began to think it was Viggo. 

Suddenly, two fingers pushed in, jolting David forward, twisting deeper. A hand tugged up on the leather strap around his thigh. David twisted, wanting to spread his legs, to thrust back, was frustrated, fire burning through him. He felt hands on his ass pressing him apart, then tried to relax as blunt warmth pressed against him, slick and firm. Waited.

Pleasure ripped through him as a warm body bent over him, thrusting deep within in one sharp movement, then rocking against him. The scent of cologne and the feel of the cock inside told David it was Sean, legs moving to grip David's, pulling nearly out to thrust back in, slow and powerful, again and again.

Breath rasping against his throat, biting back words Sean would consider an order, David was split, the hard thrusts pushing him toward coming, the tight leather holding him back, the tension between the two forces stopping breath and motion as he strained to end what could not be finished

Pausing deep inside, Sean moved finally, explosively, to his climax. David lay, panting, tense, until Sean pulled away, only then realizing Viggo was no longer holding him down. 

Hands settled around his neck, Viggo's he was sure, caressing the strap, then trailed down over the others, sliding between David's legs. He shuddered, moaning as the ache in his body increased. A pause and then he was pulled upright by the straps around his body, heard the coffee table shoved away. 

Fingers curled around his chin. "Open your mouth," Viggo said softly.

Remembering what he'd said earlier, David opened his mouth, leaned forward to take Viggo's cock as deeply as he could, sucking. After a few moments, the rhythm soothed him, and he sucked harder until the hand tightened around his neck. "Enough," Viggo said, pushing David's head back.

The strap around his thighs loosened, fell away. "Stand up," Sean said.

David needed Viggo's help to stand, staggering, was guided, stumbling across the carpet and through the door, to be lowered to the bed. Lay face down against the cool comforter, all sensation pooling in his belly, pulsating and hot, barely noticing the bed's movement. 

Hands turned him over on his back, an arm across his chest holding him down. Other hands pushed his legs apart. Exhilarating at the relative freedom, David pushed up, felt the strong body sliding over him, tilted his hips. Viggo thrust inside David, moving easily in and out, then freed David's cock, hand moving up and down.

Sean's mouth took David's as he tried to gasp for air, and David felt all sensations combine in a rush of pleasure, a surge that emptied him of all thought and meaning.

* * * * * * *

"Help me?"

The rasp of velcro sounded loud in the room, insistent in David's ears. The hands that moved over him, pulling straps away from him, were gentle, but the feel of leather pulling away from skin made him shudder. 

"Shift over, David, so there's room for the rest of us," Sean said, pushing him, hands gentler than the words.

David moved as much as he could, felt covers dropped over him.

A hand stroked down his face. "Open your eyes." Sean's voice.

David shook his head. 

"So is it the role or the people, David?"

David forced his eyes open to see Sean lying beside him.

"I don't know. Maybe both?"

Tilting his head, Sean watched David a moment, saying nothing. Then he moved, gathering up the straps that were lying in a pile at the foot of the bed. "Well, we can talk about that in the morning."

Viggo came out of the bathroom and leaned over to snap off the light on the nightstand. The light shining from the bathroom gleamed off his skin as he climbed into bed. David watched him, echoes of pleasure sounding under his skin. As his eyes were drifting shut again, he felt a hand on his chest. In the quiet of the moment, in the darkness behind his eyes, he finally found the courage to speak.

"Was it Andy who made it happen in Wellington, that first time? Would you have done anything if it hadn't been for Andy?"

Silence except for the sound of water running in the bathroom and Sean humming a tune David didn't recognize. When Viggo spoke, his voice was low, but he was so close David had no trouble hearing it.

"I don't know."

**Wellington/Day Four**

David drowned in blackness, soft and warm. Breathing deeply, he turned away from the touch that pulled him from sleep.

"David."

"Hnnnnnnngh." Rolling onto his stomach, David groped for a pillow. 

The hand stroked from neck to waist, moved lower, lingering. "David!"

Rich and dark, the scent of coffee tugged at him. Pulling the pillow closer and over his head, David wrapped his arm around his face. The sheet under him smelled like sex.

The pillow disappeared. 

"David, there's breakfast."

"Nngnks," he said.

"Turn him over and let me try something." Another voice.

A hand gripped his shoulder, pulled him over onto his back, held him as another hand wrapped around his cock.

"Fuck."

"If you want," Sean said, sounding amused, his grip tightening.

David forced his eyes open. "Fuck you," he managed.

"Such language, and not at all likely." 

"G'way. M'sleeping!"

"We need to talk," Viggo said. 

"And eat," Sean said, releasing David.

Only Viggo's hand on his shoulder kept David from rolling over and crawling back into sleep. But still.

"Fuck, no way." David shut his eyes. "Too early."

The bed tilted, and Viggo's hand lifted off David. Satisfied, he rolled onto his side, pillowing his head on his arm and reaching for the covers. He'd set the alarm the night before, they didn't need to wake him up early. 

The sound of water running in the bathroom did not disturb him, but the icy shock of rough wet cloth scrubbing across his face did.

"Holy fucking shit!" David jackknifed up, striking out blindly.

Hard arms came from behind, wrapping around his chest, pushing him over and down, on the same trajectory as his lunge. David blinked, realizing he was lying face down with someone on top of him, then managed to turn his head to see Sean standing by the bed, holding a dripping washcloth.

If there'd been even a hint of a smirk on Sean's face, David told himself, he'd have walked out then and there. If he could have stood which didn't seem likely at the moment.

"Let me go," David said, realizing it was Viggo lying on top of him. "Please."

"Are you awake?"

"Unfortunately."

"Planning on hitting anyone?"

"No," David sighed. "Not now. But why--"

Viggo released him. 

David pushed himself up cautiously, swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I don't want breakfast," he said.

"All the better," Sean said. "You can talk while we eat."

David looked at him. Talk? Now? "Why?"

"Because there won't be any time later."

David shook his head. "Bathroom," he said, standing up.

"Oh, good, you can take this back then," Sean said, handing him the sopping washcloth. 

Without thinking, David took it. Before he could say or do anything else, Sean patted him on the shoulder and walked around him and across the room. Watching Sean go to the room service cart that was near the open door, David shook his head again and headed for the bathroom, the cloth cold in his hand. 

* * *

When David came out of the bathroom, he saw Viggo and Sean sitting on the bed. Viggo was on the far side leaning against the headboard, pillows piled behind and beside him. He was naked to the waist, bedding covering his legs. Sean was naked, sitting cross-legged on top of the coverlet near the foot of the bed.

A tray with covered dishes and a white plastic pot surrounded by cups and napkin-wrapped silverware was balanced on the bedding between them. David walked to his side of the bed, near the head.

David tried to pull the bedding back to slide under it, but with Sean and the tray solidly on top on one end and Viggo wrapped in it at the other, there was no chance. David leaned over to pull a couple of pillows toward him then slid onto the bed, lying on his belly. He propped himself up on the pillows, supporting himself on his elbows. The fabric of the coverlet rasped against his skin. 

Sean smiled at David, poured dark steaming coffee from the pot into the cups. 

"No tea?" asked David.

"Coffee has more caffeine."

David sighed and accepted the cup, held it, warming his hands, inhaling the dark aroma, mouth watering, watched Sean pour two more cups. 

"Any milk?" 

Sean shrugged. "Sugar, but no milk or cream. Sorry."

"All right."

Cautious, David sipped, the hot liquid bitter on tongue and throat as he swallowed. 

Ripping open three packs of sugar, Sean tipped half into each cup, stirred slowly, handed one to Viggo, lifted the other to sip from it, watching David. 

"Are you ready to talk," Sean asked.

"No. It's morning."

"Shit, all those early calls in New Zealand, early calls generally, do you tell your director you can't talk then? What do you do?"

David said, "That's different." He raised the cup, drank again.

"Huh." Sean picked up his cup and drank, head tilting back.

Watching the movements in Sean's throat and Sean lean forward to set the cup down on the tray, David shifted uneasily against the coverlet.

"It's different because you're acting?"

Looking away from Sean, David shrugged and drank.

"So then what we need to do is run a game some early morning to see if you're acting or not."

David nearly choked on the last of his coffee. "You've got to be kidding." He coughed, trying to clear his throat.

"No, it makes sense, don't you see. . . ."

Viggo interrupted. "Sean, shut up. There's no time for this. David, is it the people or the game?"

"You can't separate it. . . ." David's voice trailed off. He reached out blindly, releasing the cup. He was wrong.

He saw it unfolding now, like an image of one of Sean's roses in time-lapse photography. He'd been thinking it was all tied together, Viggo and Sean and the games, from the start.

_Lying on the hotel bed, Viggo's hands gripping his arms, Sean sitting across his legs, hand wrapped around David's cock._

But it hadn't been. First there had been Andy. _The strong body pinned him against the wall of the alley, hands sliding around him._

Then Viggo and Andy. Then the games with Andy. Because of Sean. Andy was wrong. Separate tracks branching out.

Then, like a tree falling across the path, had come Hugh. 

_David_ _ lay face-down in the dark room, arms and legs spread, tied to Hugh's bed. When Hugh had asked about the blindfold, David had said no. Hugh had then left the room, turning out the light and shutting the door. The room was warm, the apartment quiet. David settled himself to wait. This was their first game, so he wasn't sure what to expect._

"David!" 

Sean reached out, fingers under David's chin, thumb running over David's mouth.

"Shut your mouth unless you want to trap flies," Sean released him.

David looked at Viggo. "The people," he said. "Andy's wrong. Hugh--" David stopped, shocked at what he nearly had said.

"Hugh? I knew it, "Sean said. "Back in Idaho when you wouldn't talk."

Viggo tossed the bedding aside, leaned forward to set his cup down on the tray, and stood. "That's for another time. Along with this whole issue of acting or not."

"But--" Sean protested.

Viggo walked around the bed, stood behind Sean, resting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll have time."

Sean leaned back, smiling. "I guess you're right. Because if it's the people and not the game, then I guess we're talking about love, right, David?"

David looked at Sean, nodded, then looked at Viggo.

"What took you so long," Viggo said, rubbing a hand roughly over Sean's head. "I figured that out in England." 

Sean twisted, aiming a mock blow at Viggo who ducked, said "I want a shower," and went into the bathroom.

David heard the water start in the shower. Something had changed but he wasn't sure what. He breathed in, once, feeling hollow inside.

Sean pushed the tray forward, turned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. David watched as he picked the tray up, carried it over, and put it on the cart which he pushed out the door. A few moments later, Sean came back, walked to the side of the bed, resting a hand on David's back.

"I still want to hear about Hugh."

David balanced on one arm, pushing the pillows away, stretching out. The bed tilted under him as Sean settled next to him, one hand sliding along David's back, the other pushing his shoulder down. He pillowed his head on his arms, closing his eyes, feeling the warmth along his side, inhaling the stale odours of the fabric under him.

Soft wetness trailed up his neck, tongue moving across skin, licking into the hair at his nape, then lips sliding down. Not quite kissing, not quite sucking. David breathed out as the clever mouth moved down his spine, shivered.

Sean paused, holding David down, breath warm against his skin. "So?"

"What do you want to know about Hugh?" David was wary, still unsure about Sean's response. 

"I don't care if you fucked." Sean's mouth moved lower. David spread his legs slightly, relaxing, enjoying the contrast between the softness of Sean's mouth and the rasp of his stubble against damp skin.

"But were there games?"

David swallowed, nodded, then realized Sean couldn't see the motion, given where his mouth was. 

"Yes."

"And?"

"I learned I don't like games. . . ." David gasped as Sean bit down, sucking hard, forced himself to continue, "with some kinds of people."

Sean licked gently at the spot he'd bitten, sending warmth throbbing up David's spine.

"Good. Do you want to play games with Andy?"

"No."

"Very good. But if I asked you to."

"You wouldn't."

One of Sean's arms slid across David's shoulders, the other pressed down on David's thighs. David twitched at the pressure, was rewarded by a sharp nip at the base of his spine which seemed to jolt straight through his body to his cock.

"Hypothetically. If I did."

David made himself breathe in and out, thinking. "I don't know."

"A point for honesty."

"Are you likely to?"

A pause, then, "No."

"Good."

Sean chuckled, then moved away, sliding his hands under David's left side. "Roll over on your back."

David turned face-up, felt Sean move closer, warm skin along David's side and legs, to rest a hand on his belly.

"Open your eyes."

David bit his lip, then shook his head. "No."

"No?"

Not an order, David told himself. "Please?"

"You want the blindfold?"

David nodded.

"No accessories today, no toys, no ropes, no leather, no cuffs, nothing. I once saw a dom doing a scene at a club in England, it was fucking incredible. She was this lovely woman, lushly ripe as a peach, gold hair. She was famous for doing bondage with paper chains--"

"What?"

"You heard right, paper chains. The kind kids make from construction paper and glue. Her subs made their own, I heard, and that night, all her sub was wearing was cuffs and chains made from what looked like red doilies. The contrast between the delicacy of the paper and his size and heft, he topped her by a head, was incredible. So picture this lovely dark-skinned young man, long black hair, brown eyes as big as Elijah's, chained by airy nothing more or less. What they did that night went so far beyond the usual bondage scene…"

As Sean's voice trailed off, David could feel the hardening cock against his side, tried to imagine the scene, felt Sean's hand move down, thrust up reflexively against it.

"Down, boy." Sean patted him. "I've always wondered how that sort of game would feel. I heard once about a master who used only thread, cotton sewing thread, but it was just stories. She was all there, and all in control. With chains made of paper."

David hesitated, but the story seemed to be done, and he just had to know. "Have you ever done it?"

"No. Not till now." A pause, and then, "I'll let you keep your eyes closed, but you have to promise to talk more about what happened with Hugh."

"Now?"

Sean chuckled. "Not now. Tempting, but no. I want Viggo to hear it."

"But he won't want--"

"Not all the dirty details," Sean's hand moved up to David's chest rubbing, and the vibration of his voice soothed David. "Although feel free to share with me whatever you want. Just the basics. Whatever made his name come out of your mouth then means something's important. And important means we all have to know, right?"

Breathing out, David nodded. Once.

"If he's what made you realize it's the people not the games, then it's important."

One of Sean's hand slid to David's side, then the other, and David felt fire under his skin as the large hands moved over his ribs, under his arms, to his upper arms.

"Extend your arms."

Obedient, David uncrossed his arms, stretched them straight above his head. Sean's hands slid up to his wrists, Sean's weight pressing down on David until they lay chest to chest. David tried to breathe. He tried the actor's exercise of relaxing one group of muscles at a time.

"Here are the rules, David. No paper chains or thread, just your imagination. Your will." Sean's hands circled David's wrists, pressing them together. "Link your hands."

David slid the fingers of his right hand through his left, clasping his hands, gripping until he felt the pressure from Sean's hands relax. "You started with ropes and release knots. Then the leather harness. Then cuffs, with me and Viggo, right?"

David nodded.

"Did I miss anything?"

"No."

  
But it was always your consent, your choice, in the games. So now that binding is all that will hold you."

Sean's breath was warm against David's cheek, and he could smell the coffee they had drunk in the air they breathed in and out, the darkness of the scent mingling with the darkness behind his eyelids. He felt pressure start to build, aching, and tried to spread his legs, but Sean slid his leg over and down, easily holding him.

"Your legs are bound as well. Wrists, arms, thighs, and legs," as he spoke, Sean's right hand moved to touch David lightly down his body. "And ankles. You cannot move, isn't that right, David? What's holding you is stronger than the chains they used to hang Grond, as tough as mithril."

David could visualize the bonds tightening around him, nodded. 

"In a minute I'm going to turn you over and fuck you, you know."

Straining, David felt the tension as his muscles clenched, the will to push against the bonds, the impossibility of breaking them bred as they were of his own blood and bone and will.

"And I'm not planning on using any lube. What do you think about that?"

  
David thought about the last three days, especially last night, and figured he wouldn't have any problem.

Held in Sean's tight embrace, David opened his mouth to agree but was stopped by Sean's kiss.

When Sean pulled back, releasing David's mouth, he was gasping for breath, shaking. 

One hand on David's ribs, the other curling around his leg, Sean rolled him over to lie face down. The bed tilted as Sean moved, confusing David, until the hard arm slid under his belly and Sean pulled him up and back. After a confused flurry of movements, David found himself on his knees, head and arms down, with Sean behind him. 

Opening his mouth to breathe more deeply, David centered his weight, feeling off-balance on the bed. A warm hand ran down his back.

"Still bound, David?"

"Good." The hand slid down, joined by the other, to David's ass. Feeling the ache building, he tried to relax as Sean pressed him apart, pushing in, pausing, then again, entering him slowly. He felt different, bigger perhaps, David thought distantly, or something else. Either the lack of lube, or the change in Sean's rhythm, the slow pattern of starting and stopping, quickly pushed David close to coming. Sean's breathing was loud in the quiet room as he finally paused, hands on David's hips, deep inside.

Remembering Sean's response the first night, David did not speak, did not move, could feel pressure growing inside. When Sean finally moved, pulling back, thrusting in harder and faster, David convulsed under him, Sean's weight pushing him down. Sliding onto the bed, David relaxed under him, rocking in the final waves of pleasure, feeling the wetness on his belly and thighs. Sean gripped him, hard, then lay still. The only sound in the room was their breathing until Viggo spoke, sounding amused. 

"And here I thought you two were talking."

Sprawled under Sean, David opened his eyes, blinking against the sting of sweat, and saw Viggo sitting in the chair wearing only a towel. 

"We were," Sean said. He moved off David, keeping one arm across his back. "But you needed to hear some of it. So we stopped talking. Then I had to keep David awake somehow."

"What do I need to hear?"

"About what happened with Hugh. Right, David?"

Wary, David nodded. He lay under Sean's arm, watching Viggo. How he would respond to what David had to say about Hugh was even more of a question than Sean. 

But Sean was right, much as David didn't want to admit it. "I guess the easiest way is to say it was a game that went bad." David paused. "I'm not sure why. Miscommunication, different sets of rules. When I tried to talk about it, after, Hugh seemed more confused than anything else. He was sure he'd given me what I needed."

"What he thought you needed, not what you said you wanted?" Sean asked.

David nodded. 

"I don't understand." Viggo frowned, shifted in the chair.

"Reminds me of some of the people I knew in the clubs in London. You do know there are clubs, don't you?"

"Yes, but--"

"It's all tied up with how much of this sort of thing people want. Some just want to play the occasional game on weekend, some, I've heard, try to live it for much if not all of their life. And people like to set up spaces, rules, where everybody is in the role. Naturally, not everybody agrees on the rules."

"I know about the clubs." Viggo sounded impatient. "That doesn't have anything to do with us. So why talk about it?"

Sean shrugged. "It might have something to do with Hugh. I did the club scene for a while, years ago, before I got bored with it. That's when I picked up a lot of my gear."

"Bored?" David couldn't believe it.

"Did you ever get that much into the club culture?"

"No."

"It seems exciting at first, I admit, but after a while…all the rules, everybody bitching if you make one wrong step, so much effort put into the surface, the ritual, learning the roles. Too mechanized for me. Artificial, I guess. And some of those people, well, they have entirely too inflated a notion of what a dom can know about his or her sub, what doms are supposed to be doing."

"But you wanted me to play games?" Viggo's voice was dry.

"That's different," Sean said. "I didn't want the games, I wanted you. Thought perhaps we could work through some stuff with the games. Because it was you. Like David said, it's the people not the roles. But speaking of David," Sean tapped David on the shoulder. David turned his head to look at Sean who leaned over him.

"You were bloody confusing, you know. I thought it was going to be nice and simple, when Viggo finally agreed to play games. What happened in England with the harness was fantastic. Then you turned around and challenged me in Idaho. Then again here, same kind of pattern, two nights with the straps, the first night so submissive, then the second--the whole thing with Andy. Resistant maybe."

David shrugged. He didn't know what to say.

"You didn't do the clubs, you say. So just private games?"

David nodded.

"Dom or sub?"

"I've done both," David says. "With Elijah--

"Elijah? You and Elijah?" Sean laughed.

"Yes."

"Well, that explains a lot."

David waited, but Sean didn't expand.

"Dom?"

"Most of the time." It had been different with Elijah, too much tied up with their roles in the film, for David to want to try to talk about now. 

  
"And then Andy got involved. You know about that."

"And he said you kept resisting him. What was that about?"

"He was pushing too hard. I wasn't sure I could trust him."

Viggo interrupted, "This isn't really about Elijah or Andy, is it?"

"No, but it's interesting."

"You said we had to talk about Hugh. Let him talk then."

David had been quite happy to let Sean talk but wasn't going to say so.

"All right. Hugh. Can we assume he wasn't interested in the submissive role?

"Not even remotely."

"What happened?" Sean's voice suddenly serious, dropping in tone. 

  
David could feel the tension in the warm body pressed against his side.

"It's complicated. It was a weird set, especially after Pete's. We'd met in Australia, thought we were friends. We probably are friends, but maybe we shouldn't have tried for anything more. One night, things got strange."

Viggo asked, "Was tequila involved?"

"Not this time," David sighed. "Just, we were screwing around, mostly blowjobs, along with a lot of jokes about bloodsuckers." 

Sean chuckled, and David relaxed.

"Hugh asked about bondage, and I said yes." David closed his eyes, made himself go on. If he didn't talk now, he never would. "Hugh had me tied up, asked if he could do some things, and I said no. He turned the lights out and left for a while. Then. . ."

Silence. Sean's hand was warm on David's back.

"I didn't realize until too late, but it wasn't Hugh who came back."

"What?" Viggo's voice rose.

David nodded, opening his eyes, to see Viggo leaning forward. 

Sean began rubbing his back gently. "Who was it then?"

"Richard. I didn't know he and Hugh were involved. When I said no, Hugh went and called Richard." 

Viggo watched David closely, frowning. 

David breathed out, shrugged. "We talked after. He said he thought it was what I needed, that I'd been flirting with Richard all along. He apologized. Eventually. Or at least said he was sorry I hadn't enjoyed myself. That was all."

"Sounds familiar," Sean said.

Viggo stood, still frowning. "I'm still not sure I understand, but I do know one thing."

  
"What?" Sean asked.

"We're going to be late if we don't leave soon."

David nodded and rolled over to sit up. "I need a shower."

"I can see," Viggo said. "The car will be here in twenty minutes, if that clock's right."

  
Sean stood, stretching, and took David's arm, tugging him to his feet and towards the bathroom. "Well, then, we'll just have to shower together."

Sean leaned into the large stall, turned the water on full. He waited a moment, tested the temperature, and then stepped in, tugging David after him. The stall was only slightly crowded as they showered, taking turns under the water. David ducked his head under the stream, stood a few moments, until Sean tapped his shoulder. Stepping around Sean, who slid past him, covered in lather, to rinse, David smiled. For all the joking about showers, Sean seemed almost businesslike. They'd have plenty of time to dress.

Wondering if he regretted that, David shrugged as Sean turned the water off, opened the door, and leaned out to grab towels from the nearby rack.

"Here," he said and turned back into Sean's arms who pressed him back against the damp wall. David was so startled he nearly dropped the towels.

"What happened to those bonds, David?" Sean's hand settled at the base of David's throat.

He blinked, then remembered. Oh.

"I forgot," he admitted. "Talking about Hugh. . ."

Sean nodded and released him. "We'll have to work on that," he said. "Next time."

Handing him one towel, David stepped out to dry himself. He opened the bathroom door, letting steam escape, and went to find the clothes he'd packed for the parade through Wellington and the premier. It still amazed him New Line had agreed to have the world premier in New Zealand after the earlier films opened in London and New York. 

But that meant today was going to be the longest and most exhausting yet, and he wasn't even going to think about what Sean had said.

* * *

"Bye-bye boys," Sean smirked, pitching his voice high. "Have fun storming the castle!"

David looked around for something to throw at Sean who was reclining happily, wearing nothing but a pair of red shorts, on all the pillows on top of the sloppily-made bed with a full tray from room service and a stack of paperbacks with lurid covers next to him. It wasn’t fair.

Nothing within reach.

"You sure you don't want to come along," David suggested. "You know the fans would love it."

"Nope, not officially here, sorry!" Sean said. "Ta-ta." He waved.

Shrugging, David followed Viggo out. 

* * *

Feeling numb, slightly floating, David sat in the dark theatre, Miranda on one side and Lawrence on the other. Viggo had gotten tugged away by Orli and the hobbits and was sitting in the row in front, to David's left.

It was always strange to watch his own work. When he wasn't on screen, he could appreciate the incredible artistry that had gone into this film. But when he was. . . he shifted uneasily as Faramir led his men toward the doomed attack on Osgiliath.

Miranda leaned close, sweet-scented hair tickling his face, and whispered, "Still saddlesore?"

He'd had the worst horse of all the hundreds working on the film, had sworn up and down that Denethor had a hand in buying it. He still remembered the day it had tried to run away with him, and Jed had to ride after him, cut the horse off as it headed for the hills. Saddlesore wasn't even close to what he'd felt that time.

"Not anymore," he whispered back. "How about you?"

She shook her head, patted him on the knee, and settled back to watch.

He slid down enough to rest his head on the back of the seat. When the film was over, they could mill around a while with the others and then leave. The major event of the day had been the parade through Wellington's streets, amazingly lined with red carpet and more people than he could believe. It had been exhilarating, pushing him into a total adrenaline high, the others as well. But now that was ebbing, leaving him exhausted.

* * *

Someone shook him hard, someone making a great deal of noise. David mumbled something, tried to twist away.

"Wake up, David."

He jerked in surprise and blinked up at Lawrence standing over him. 

  
"What?"

"The film's over. Stand up and take a bow."

Guiltily, David scrambled to his feet and moved forward to where the rest of the cast was standing the front of the box. The screen was dark and the lights on, the audience was shouting and clapping. 

David smothered a yawn and stood. He hoped Pete hadn't seen what he'd done. After a while, the security and film people came in and started moving the group out. David stood back, letting others go ahead of him talking about what premier party they'd be going to, what they thought of the film.

* * *

Much later than he'd thought, David followed Viggo out to the car, slid in beside him. They were nearly at the hotel when Viggo spoke. "Did Andy speak to you at all?"

"No. I didn't even see him, after that first time."

They'd seen Andy at the theatre, but he had smiled briefly, moved away before anyone spoke. David had been relieved if curious.

"You?"

"No." Viggo's voice seemed distant, uninviting.

David shrugged, sitting back, watching the silhouette of the driver, saying nothing for the rest of the ride.

* * *

Back at the room, David headed for the refrigerator and a cold bottle of water. He'd gotten dehydrated during the day. He stood drinking in the dim light, watching as Viggo opened the door to the bedroom, expecting to hear a wisecrack from Sean. 

Nothing.

Viggo closed the door, gently, and turned to David smiling. "He's asleep."

David drained the bottle, tossed it into the garbage can, stretched. "Sleep sounds good right now."

Viggo moved a step, then two, closer to David. "Even after that nice nap you had earlier?"

  
Flushing, David shrugged. "Was it that obvious?"

"Not then. But Lawrence talked until Miranda backed him into a corner and made him promise to stop."

David grinned, picturing Miranda standing in front of Lawrence. As big as he was, he was too gentle, too, well, nice to have much of a chance of winning an argument with her. The irony of the roles he played in the film had not been lost on David. "I was woken early this morning, so. . ."

"Umhm." Viggo closed in, one arm sliding around David's waist, pinning his arm, the other settling at the base of his throat, kissed him, slow, thorough, pressing him against the counter. When Viggo finally pulled back, David gasped for breath, gripped Viggo's shoulder. 

"Still sleepy?"

  
David shook his head. Not sleepy at all.

"Good." Viggo took one step back, started unbuttoning David's shirt, pulled it, along with the rumpled suit jacket off, dropping them on the floor.

Kicking off his shoes, David returned the favor. Neither of them wore suits unless forced to but today had called for something special. It took only a couple of minutes to drop his trousers and step out of them. David headed for the bedroom, expecting Viggo to follow. Sean wouldn't mind if they woke him up. Not if they were naked when they did.

Viggo's hand wrapped around his arm, holding him back. David turned his head. "What?"

Shaking his head, Viggo said, "In here," and pulled David after him, toward the living room, flipping the ceiling light on.

"What about Sean?" David was confused.

"I'm curious to see how heavily he sleeps."

David grinned and let Viggo pull him along.

Releasing David, Viggo pushed the couch back against the wall, pulled the spread off, and knelt, spreading it on the floor next to the coffee table. He stood, stripping off his pants. 

"Here."

David sat, the smooth fabric cool against his skin. Viggo knelt beside him.

"Did you and Sean work out what was going on with Faramir?" 

"I think so."

Viggo smiled. "Good." He slid closer, one hand going to David's chest, pushing him over. 

David lay back, stretching his legs. He liked where he thought this was going. "Not that Aragorn would be interested, right? He was only into Boromir as I recall."

"That's what I used to think. But something's changed. Maybe because Faramir changed." Viggo shifted to sit on David's thighs, leaning down to grasp his upper arms, pinning him down.

"Changed?" David tried to speak evenly.

"Watching him with Boromir the last times. Bound. On his knees. The look on your face. . .you didn't used to look like that when you were playing Faramir for Sean." 

David realized Viggo's voice had changed to Aragorn's, felt himself hardening. Eyes half closed, David tried to arch up, felt Viggo move against him, thighs tightening on his legs. "I don't know what you mean," he said.

Silence. Viggo shifted forward, rubbing against David's cock. "You weren't playing, you weren't performing. It's like Sean said, you were just responding. I want that."

"You--or Aragorn?"

David gasped as Viggo's full weight came down on him, the urgency of movement translating to a rough kiss, a clashing of teeth and pressure that cut off his breath. Bucking up against Viggo, David felt the hard hands slipping, wrenched one arm free and pushed, twisting over.

Damp skin sliding against skin, they rolled, grapping. David found himself lying face-down under Viggo who was sprawled over him.

"Maybe both of us." 

David shuddered, feeling the warm wetness move along his neck, teeth grazing skin, closing on flesh. The hands moving over his body were familiar, but there was an urgency, a roughness that was different. He opened his legs, arching up, pushed himself up on his free arm, moving against Viggo.

  
Hands pulled at him, rolling him over, for Viggo to slide between his legs, pushing them apart, pushing his hands over his head, holding both wrists in one hand as he reached for his pants with the other. Fumbling, he pulled out a tube out of a pocket, then paused, frowning.

  
David snickered. Smiling, Viggo dropped the tube on the floor, slid a hand around David's throat, pressing lightly and kissed him, slowly, thoroughly. Eyes closing, David relaxed, luxuriating in the smell and taste of Viggo. When the kiss finally ended, David lay still, panting, mouth open, not moving when Viggo released his wrists and throat.

  
A moment later, Viggo's hands slid under David's thighs, pushing his legs up, spreading his thighs. Curling easily, David felt Viggo slide closer, shoulders braced against his legs, slick heat pressing into him.

Impatient, David tensed, pushing up, reaching to pull Viggo closer, rocking against him.

On a long exhalation, groaning, Viggo pushed in, hard and deep, pinning David's arms again. Then stopped.

Confused, David opened his eyes, licked his lips. "What?"

"Beg me."

Aching, hard, David opened his mouth, but Viggo shook his head. 

"No words. Not this time. You're very good with words, but that's not what I want, my lord Steward. Close your eyes. And beg."

Aragorn's voice. 

_Aragorn leaning over him, one hand on his head, one on his chest, calling him. 'My King'. _

David closed his eyes, straining against the hard hands that held him, recognizing the note in Aragorn's voice. The same one he'd heard in Viggo's. 

_I don't want to be here, standing around making polite conversation in public. Putting the straps on you, seeing you respond, I wanted to fuck you then and there against the wall._

Tilting his head back, David felt the tremors starting deep in blood and bone, could not have spoken even had he wished, did not know what Viggo wanted, could only remember the fire that had burned when he spoke. 

Could only feel as he had last night, as he felt now, needing, more than needing, reaching for what seemed within his grasp since they were here, Viggo deep in him, but he was not moving. Would not. Patience, stillness, the power surrounded David.

_Beg me._

David could not speak except with his breath, breath being the silence between words, the silence of longing. Shift of muscle pleading, grasping, clenching deep inside. Sweat trickling down his face and sides, stinging his eyes. He licked his lips, tasting salt and Viggo. 

Went deep inside beyond words that masked for the pulse that had connected them since tequila had loosened David's tongue that night.

_Begged._

Rocked back as Viggo moved, pulling out, thrusting in, harder, steady, his breathing ragged, nearly lost under the sound of flesh meeting flesh. Straining against the hands the slid over slick skin, David pushed, hitching, moving faster, coming with a suddeness that bent him like a bow and released him.

Slowing, Viggo continued to move through David's pleasure, through his relaxation, finally, shuddering, letting himself fall forward and to the side, pulling David over, holding him close, resting inside him.

When David could finally see and hear again, he shifted, pulling free of Viggo, untangling his legs, stretching, arms above his head, legs straight, feeling echoes of pleasure inside him. Viggo lay beside him, eyes closed, smiling. He laid a hand on David's chest.

David relaxed, breathing deeply. In a minute they'd have to get up and go to bed. He was not young enough to spend the night sleeping on the floor even after that good a fuck. 

In a minute.

**Wellington** ** Day Five**

David opened his eyes. He sat up, stiff, feeling the ache in his lower back. He was on the floor, the spread draped over his legs. The room was quiet, full of light.

He swallowed, rubbed his face, then his arms. He felt vaguely chilled. Out of place. He stood, looking around the room. Viggo and Sean were always awake before he was. An insulated pitcher sat on the counter, a mug and a folded piece of paper next to it. He walked over to the counter, feeling the rasp of the carpet give way to the smooth coolness of tile, and picked up the pitcher. It sloshed.

He fumbled with the button that opened it and finally managed to pour coffee. No sugar in sight, so he drank it without, slowly, leaning on the counter, and set the mug down. He unfolded the paper. Hotel stationary and Viggo's handwriting. &lt;i&gt;_11:00, We're going to breakfast. Back in a couple of hours. Sean says you won't be awake before we get back but there's coffee just in case. V_&lt;/i&gt;

Crumpling the paper into a small wad, David tossed it at the garbage can and missed. He drank more of the coffee, strong and bitter, then filled the mug and wandered into the bedroom. He could take a shower. Or go to bed. 

The clock on the nightstand blinked digital red numbers at him. &lt;i&gt;_12:30_&lt;/i&gt;.

Luggage and clothes were around the sides of the room and on the chair and desk. Carefully arranged on the neatly made bed, the bedding almost mathematically straight, were five leather straps.

David stood in the doorway, sipping coffee, looking at the bed. It was too early for him to know how to deal with this, but he no longer felt like trying to sleep. He returned to the kitchen and rummaged around until he found some apples and cheese in the small refrigerator. He ate standing up and had more coffee. Leaving the stained mug on the counter next to the pitcher, he went to take a shower.

After standing under the hot water for a long time, eyes shut, David soaped and rinsed. The bathroom was full of steam, and he dried himself slowly, then wiped the mirror. He was going to brush his teeth, but watching his face in the small clear space surrounded by fog, running a hand over his chin, he decided to shave. It took a while to find his razor and he had to steal some of Sean's shaving cream. Afterwards, he brushed his teeth thoroughly. 

He opened the door to the cooler air of the room and went to search through the pile of clothes on the chair until he found his jeans. Pulling them on over damp skin, he heard noises from the other room. Not looking at the bed, he opened the door.

Sean laughed, but David could not see him. Or Viggo. 

The couch had been returned to the original position in front of the fireplace, and David saw blond hair over the back of the couch and heard a flurry of small noises. Curious, David walked closer, silent on bare feet, around the couch, to see Sean wrapped around Viggo, both half lying, half sitting, sprawled over the couch. 

From what David could see, Viggo's shirt was off, trailing onto the floor, but Sean was fully dressed. He had pinned Viggo and kissing him thoroughly. Blond hair hid Viggo's face.

Appreciatively, David dropped down to sit cross-legged and watch. He knew, could feel, the memory of what it was like to be under Sean on the couch, mouth open to him. Watching Sean move on top of Viggo, watching him under Sean, hearing them, roused heat deep inside David.

From where he was sitting, he could see both were barefooted. Sean's denim-covered leg stood out against the dark cloth of Viggo's pants, the dark leather of the couch. Suddenly, Viggo pulled an arm free, thrusting it between the straining bodies. Sean pulled away, but Viggo pushed him over, against the back of the couch, and rocked against him, arm moving.

David's mouth opened, and he shifted to a more comfortable position. 

Another flurry of movement failed to shift Viggo, and Sean suddenly relaxed. After moments of silence broken only by irregular breathing, Sean spoke.

"Bastard."

Viggo laughed and released him, rolling over to sit up. He saw David and smiled.

"You're awake. I saw the coffee was gone so you found my message."

"But not mine, I see." Sean rolled to push Viggo up and off the couch. As Viggo stood, stretching, Sean zipped his jeans, tucking his shirt in, swung his legs over to sit.

Viggo picked up his shirt from the floor and tossed it onto the coffee table which had been shoved against the far wall. 

  
David sat still, not sure what he could or should say.

Viggo looked around at Sean. "What message?"

"David knows."

  
Viggo looked at David who shrugged, nodded toward the bedroom, and said, "The straps. I wasn't sure what it meant."

"Stand up."

David stood in one movement, saw Sean's eyebrow rise in appreciation. "Go get the straps."

"No, wait," as David started to move. "Strip first."

  
Unbuttoning then unzipping his jeans, David shoved them down, kicked free, then bent to pick them up and toss them over the coffee table on top of Viggo's shirt.

"Go get the straps."

David went into the bedroom and picked up the five straps one at a time, running each through his hands, enjoying the rich texture, the flex of them in his hands, the clean smell of saddle soap and leather. He swallowed and went back to Sean and Viggo.

Viggo was sitting on the couch, Sean standing behind him, arms resting on the back. David walked toward Sean, but he shook his head. "Give them to Viggo."

David walked around the couch and stood in front of Viggo who was sitting, legs spread, his head leaning back against Sean's arms. David extended the straps, but Viggo shook his head, and so David let his hand drop back to his side, leather brushing against bare skin. He stood, confused, until he looked at Viggo's face, saw the faint smile. 

Adjusting his stance slightly, David relaxed, standing as still as he could, trying to breathe evenly. His could feel his cock hardening, but he kept his eyes on Viggo's.

Viggo stood and placed his hands on David's shoulders, moving him back a pace, then took the straps from him. He sorted through them, selected the shortest one, set the others on the couch, and then slid a hand behind David's head, kissing him, then his mouth moved over freshly shaved skin, down David's neck, biting softly. He jumped, then relaxed as Viggo began to suck at first softly, then harder. Head tilted back, David tried to press against Viggo but was held firmly. 

  
Pulling away, Viggo slid the leather around David's neck, tightening it, fastening it so the strap rested against the neck where he'd been sucking, pressure against the skin there heightening the sensation. His hands rested against the strap, against David's chest.

Viggo spoke softly. "Any requests, Sean?"

"None. You choose, oh King."

Hands sliding down, Viggo pushed David's arms behind his back, breath warm against his face. "Wrists together." 

Breathing out, David nodded, sliding one wrist on top of the other, and waited while Viggo picked up another strap. Stepping closer to reach behind David, Viggo wrapped the strap once, then twice, around his wrists, then brought the ends back around his waist, fastening them. This strap was tighter than the first.

A third went around David's upper arms and chest. 

Picking up the fourth, Viggo stood a moment, holding it in both hands. "Close your eyes."

David did, stood in darkness. He was half expecting a repetition of the caress from the other day and held his breath.

Nothing.

The touch when it came was on his lower back, the pressure of the strap against him reminded him of the camping trip, Viggo's belt. Shuddering, David felt his cock hardening.

"Put your legs together."

The leather moved down, tight against his ass, rubbing, stopping at the top of his thighs, pressure increasing. David tensed, arching forward, reacting so strongly that he nearly stepped into Viggo. He stopped, shifted to bring legs together.

The leather was pulled tight, wrapping around David's thighs. If his cock hadn't been so hard, if Viggo hadn't adjusted it slightly, the strap would have gone over rather than under his erection. 

Sean made a sound deep in his throat as Viggo pulled David close, wrapping his arms around him, kissing him. Eager, David leaned into the kiss, feeling Viggo's skin against his, the leather between them, Viggo's hands moving down his back. Stepping back, Viggo tugged David forward, one small step, then two, holding him up as he tilted forward. 

Finally releasing David's mouth, Viggo set his hands on David's shoulders. "On your knees."

Trembling, David dropped awkwardly to his knees. He would have preferred being on the couch himself, but at least this was better than having to stand. Thinking that he knew what Viggo was planning, David was surprised a few moments later when Viggo, now sitting on the couch, closed his legs on David and leaned forward. One hand slid down David's back, between his shoulders, and the other teased into his cleft, pressing a finger gently into him. David's hips jerked forward against the smooth leather of the couch. 

Slowly, Viggo's finger curled into David, and he tried to move, tried to thrust forward or back, but Viggo's legs tightened around him, Viggo's hand slid lower, his arm holding David against the couch, against Viggo, and the subtle movement went on. And on. No deeper than a couple of inches, no harder, just that slight movement, in, turning, and out.

Sweat rolled down David's back. He rested his head on Viggo's shoulder panting, knowing he would never be able to come, not like this.

David turned his head, swallowed. 

He could feel dampness on Viggo's skin or on his own, or both. 

Wrapped in Viggo's arms and legs, David could move only his head. He nuzzled closer to Viggo's neck, licked slowly along his collar-bone and up, feeling Viggo's response through his body. Realizing Viggo's movement faltered a moment, was changing rhythm, his grip loosening, David closed his mouth, sucking.

Rocking slightly, driven by the pulse he felt, Viggo's heart or his or both, David rode the rising heat within, a precise balance of forces that could fall apart in a moment. Viggo's finger fucked him. David held his breath, feeling something new, shuddering.

The phone rang, a loud insistent chime.

David jerked, sagged against Viggo.

"Fuck," said Sean.

He answered in the middle of the third ring. "Yes? No. No, it's not." A pause. 

When Sean spoke again, his accent had shifted, voice dropping, to become coldly formal, consonants so crisp they sounded bitten off. "I have no idea. You rang the wrong number. Good day." The clatter of the phone hitting the counter was loud.

David shifted on his knees, aching, as Viggo pulled out and released him. He felt tremors in his thighs and hips, irritating more than arousing. 

"Sean, get David up on his feet."

"Sounds like the wrong direction to me."

"Trust me." 

A beat passed before Sean said, "Oh, I do." Then Sean's arms wrapped around David, pulling him up and back into Sean who grunted.

"Gained weight since the last time we did this?" Sean's breath was warm against David's neck.

Feeling the soft denim and cotton against damp skin, David smiled. "Last time? Last time, uh, was going down." Uncurling his fingers, David managed to rub Sean's groin, slight teasing movements, despite his hands being bound between their bodies.

"Oh." Sean swallowed, one hand sliding down David's belly to grip his cock. Softer, he said, "Not a bad idea."

Viggo's hands circled David's neck, stroking along his skin, pushing under the leather strap. David rocked forward, as much as he could, caught between them.

"Put him on the couch, on his back," Viggo said, stepping away.

Turning David, Sean guided him back and down onto the couch, lifting his legs up. David shifted his hips slightly, irked by the fabric wrinkling under him, and felt it pulled smooth. 

Fingers threaded through his hair, holding his head, as Viggo kissed him,

Sean's hands circled his ankles holding him down, as Viggo's weight slid over his chest. David spasmed as Viggo's mouth and hands moved over him. A trail of wetness down his throat, Viggo kissing and sucking, then teeth scraping over skin as he bit down on the leather strap, tugged.

Hard hands pressed David's shoulders down. He strained against the weight, arching, trying to rub against Viggo. Then the mouth, trailing down his chest, lifted away. The moment stretched into heavy silence as David struggled not to speak.

He was rewarded by sudden heat as a mouth took his cock. David's breath tore out of his throat. Damp fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, pressing, as Viggo sucked. The flutter of his tongue, the wet softness of lips sliding down, small movements pushed David closer and closer to the edge. His hips jerked, he held his breath, poised a moment, then shuddered, coming, drowned in sensation. 

He lay panting, feeling the warmth of lips and tongue moving on his softening cock, pleasure so strong it was almost pain.

The sensation was almost strong enough to drown out the hard hands sliding under him, lifting and tilting him onto his side, but not the slick fingers that pushed inside him. He rocked back, was pressed forward as Viggo slid onto the couch behind him, pushing him into the back. Sean’s hands tightened around David’s ankles as he tried to pull his legs up, curl back against Viggo.

Sliding an arm under David and around his chest, Viggo twisted his fingers deeper, pulled out to spread his hand on David’s hip, pressing him open, blunt warmth nudging in, pausing. David tensed, trembling, body straining to respond to new stimulus, the ache deep in his body centering in his groin. 

Viggo’s cock pushed deep into David, moving hard and fast, jolting him forward. Arching, David tried to pull his face out of cushion and breathe, feeling then hearing Viggo grunting behind him. The pacing of movement and sound quickened. David felt something deep inside open, shift, as he relaxed into the motion, but too soon Viggo shuddered against him, then lay still, arm tight around David’s chest, body pressed against his, panting.

Falling into Viggo’s rhythm, David breathed, feeling the beating of Viggo’s heart resonating through their bodies. Some uncounted time later, breath slowing, David felt Sean’s hand slide up his calf.

"That was," Sean paused to cough, then finished, "incredible."

David felt Viggo's sigh, breath warm against skin. 

"Mmmm-hmmm."

Some uncounted time later, David realized that while he might not want to move, he'd lost all feeling in his arms.

He licked dry lips, turned his head enough to say, "My arms are numb."

Viggo pulled out, away, unwrapping one arm from around David's chest, tilting him forward to pull the other arm out from under.

"Here, sit up."

David rolled onto his back, wincing as pain shot through his shoulders, but then Viggo was lifting him up enough so Sean could pull David into a sitting position, turn him, pushing his legs over the side of the couch. The coverlet, wet and sticky, wrinkled under David, sliding against the leather of the couch. He felt off balance.

Sitting next to him, Sean pulled on the strap around his chest, the ripping noise of the velcro loud in the quiet room. Then the one around his waist. Sean laid his hand against David's back. "Lean forward." David did. The leather stuck to his skin

Sliding off the couch, Viggo leaned sideways to pick up his jeans. As Sean unwrapped the leather around David's waist and wrists, freeing his arms, he looked at Viggo.

Standing, Viggo watched as David rubbed his arms, wincing at the tingle of returning sensation, and Sean ripped open the strap around David's thighs.

"Leave that one?" Viggo touched the strap around David's throat, standing close enough their legs touched. David felt a tremor deep inside as he watched the blue eyes.

Viggo's hand dropped away.

"Sure. But what'd you have in mind?" Sean nudged David forward and up to pull the strap out from under him.

"Bed."

"Seems redundant to me," Sean said, voice dry, one eyebrow going up.

"You have a better idea?" Viggo slung his jeans over his shoulder, looking around, then retrieving his shirt from under David's clothes.

"No," Sean said. "Bed it is then."

"I need a shower," Viggo said, then left the room.

David watched him leave, not sure what he felt or thought.

Sean rolled the straps together, leaned forward to toss them onto the coffee table.

"I have to clean those soon," he said. He looked at David, sitting on the edge of the couch.

"Water?"

"Yes. Thanks." David rubbed his wrists, first left then right, which felt chafed, almost sore.

Sean stood and left. David stood long enough to pull the coverlet off and flip it around, tossing it back over the couch so the damp section was hanging off the back and the dry if wrinkled section over the front. He thought about dressing, then shrugged and sat. He needed another shower, so he'd just wait till Viggo finished.

"Here." Sean handed him the open bottle and David nodded his thanks, drinking the cold water quickly, leaning back, eyes closed, as he finished.

He felt the couch tilt as Sean sat, could hear as Sean drank.

A touch on his throat. David tilted his head back, feeling Sean's hand, fingers spread, trailing down, pausing at the leather strap that collared David.

"Well. That was interesting."

"I guess that's one way to describe it." David kept his eyes closed.

"I meant Viggo running away."

Shocked, David opened his eyes, turning his head, Sean's hand sliding around his throat, to stare. Sean was closer than David had realized, sitting so close they were almost, but not quite, touching, facing him, one leg drawn up on the couch.

"What?"

Lips quirked, not quite a grin, Sean shrugged. "The earlier stuff was amazing, but what's interesting was what he did after."

It did sort of feel like a leave-taking, David realized slowly, although that made no sense.

"Running away?"

"Uh-huh. And I'd call what he did earlier going over the top again. Mind you, people talk about fucking someone through the bed or whatever, but that's the first time I've actually thought it might be done. And that's not his usual style. Not with you anyhow."

"Is it with you?" David didn't know if there was a challenge in his voice or not, and he didn't care.

Shrugging, Sean pulled his hand away from David's throat, reached out to take the empty water bottle, and lobbed first David's, then his, across the room. Both missed the wastebasket.

"Don’t have quite the same perspective then, love," he said. "So I don't know. But I suspect it might be close to it. If only because I give him a fight."

"But what--how can it be running away, if he's talking about going to bed?"

"What would you call it then?"

"It's almost like he was gone." David rubbed his head.

"I've seen him shut down a time or two. And this time, he's got no studio to run to, does he? No paint to hide behind."

Shut down. David remembered Viggo in the car, then on the porch in Idaho. Not talking. But never like this. Never after sex. Then, feeling the chill of the air on his skin, David remembered after the session in the woods.

"So bed this afternoon should be interesting." Sean reached out with both hands, one holding the strap around David's neck, the other pulling it open.

David sat forward, letting Sean pull the strap free.

"Tell Viggo to get another one out of my bag, after you shower, if he wants." Standing, Sean gathered the straps together, moved into the kitchen.

David sat a while, hearing the small noises behind him, then stood. He needed to piss, and he needed a shower. He walked toward the bedroom, still rubbing his wrists.

"Sore?"

"A little."

"Come here."

When David walked into the kitchen, Sean was unscrewing a tin. It held a pale, greasy looking substance. Sean dipped some out and, reaching out to take David's hand, pulled him closer and began rubbing it into the skin of his wrist. The gentle touch, the slide of the ointment over sore skin, was arousing despite David's exhaustion.

David's cock twitched, and he bit his lip.

Working on David's other wrist, Sean grinned at him, full force. "Yep. Bed. Should be interesting." Sean twisted the lid back on the tin and held it out to David. "Better take this with you. We may need it later."

Having absolutely no idea what he could say to that, David nodded and took the tin before turning to go into the bedroom to see if the bathroom was free.

The bedroom was dim when David pushed the door open, heavy drapes drawn, lit only by the bathroom light shining through the nearly-shut door. The sound of water running in the shower stopped. 

Cautious, David walked into the room, leaving the door behind him open. He rummaged through his suitcase looking for a pair of shorts, pulled them out.

The bathroom door opened, light spilling into the room. Viggo was a shadow in the doorway, standing a moment, hand on the doorknob. Then he walked forward, silent, graceful. 

Turning to face Viggo directly, David waited, not sure what to do.

Viggo reached out, hands resting lightly on David's shoulders. Stepping closer, Viggo stood so close David could feel the warmth of the shower rising from his damp skin. Viggo leaned forward, forehead resting against David's. He smelled the familiar scent of the hotel soap, the heavy mint of toothpaste. 

"Are you all right?" Viggo's voice was low.

"Yes," David said, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Viggo breathed deeply, once, then twice, drew back enough to shake his head. Looking at David in dimness. "I don't know. I thought, I wondered, if it was too much like what happened in Idaho."

"What?" 

David winced as Viggo's hands tightened on his shoulders, pressure tight on bone and flesh. When he spoke his voice was still low but carried an edge. He shook David. "What does it take for you to say no, to use that stupid safeword?"

Dropping the shorts, David gripped Viggo's arms, pushing up. "This might be it," he said.

Viggo's hands relaxed and he stepped back as David released him. 

Rubbing one shoulder, David asked, "What the fuck is wrong?" He blinked in sudden light.

"A very good question," Sean said, one hand resting on the light switch, the other full of leather straps.

Viggo did not speak for a moment. He reached out to brush his hand, feather-light, down David's left hip. "That."

David blinked, looked down, saw welts where the leather straps wound around his waist and wrists must have chafed. He was marked on both sides, as well as the redness on his wrists. 

He shrugged. "I didn't even feel it earlier."

"Now?"

"A little sore. So what?" David realized he was rubbing his wrist just before Viggo gripped both arms.

"So what will it take?" Viggo pressed David back, the edge of the desk cutting into his thighs. He shook his head, winced as the pressure grew.

"I think you've been having some conversation with yourself that David and I've missed out on," Sean said, his voice carrying easily across the room. "Don't you think you need to fill us in, if you really want an answer?"

Viggo's grip loosened but he did not release David, breath warm against his skin as they stood, bodies touching, in silence.

Eyes closed, finally, Viggo spoke. "You've never said no, not to me. And that wouldn't have mattered, maybe, except for these so-called games. What happened on the camping trip, and then in England with the harness."

A pause, but David didn't dare speak. He tried to think back, memories jumbling in his head. He could not remember. 

The silence in the room sang with tension.

"Calling it a game makes it sound so simple, just for fun. But when is a game not a game? Or is everything a game? I always thought fantasies were different, should be different. In the dark, in your head, all alone, it doesn’t matter what you dream. But then, in Idaho, it started blurring. Something broke."

"Can I ask a question?" Sean moved closer, close enough to touch, setting the straps down on the bed, clasping his hands behind his back.

A pause, then "Yes."

"Those fantasies. Was one of them tying David to that bloody big tree and fucking him? Whether he agreed or not? No game, no rules, no safeword?"

Standing so close to Viggo, David could see his jaws clench, felt the response lash from Viggo's body through his own. Viggo did not speak, but he didn't need to. David knew the answer.

When the painting had arrived at his home in Australia, matted and framed by silver-grey wood, David had hung it in his bedroom, refusing to think much about the reason. He'd seen it every day he was home, whatever days he was not on location. And he'd never seen the way the swirl of leaves which he'd thought was like a wave also resembled a rope, never thought about how the frame could be read as a boundary. But he had seen the way the nude man, an idealized image of David, seemed to be bound in or to the tree. 

David's breath stopped. He wanted to run. He wanted to grab Viggo. He wanted to punch Sean.

Viggo opened his eyes and hands, stepping back, to free David. Seeming to ignore what Sean had said, Viggo asked, "What are the boundaries, David? You set rules for Sean. You even challenged him. And whatever you did with Andy pushed him somewhere he'd never gone before, the way he acted in Wellington during filming. And the other night." Viggo's skin gleamed with sweat. "But you never set any for me. And I don’t, I can't set them myself. Not any more. None of the ones I set hold."

David shook his head, stunned. "I never thought. I don't know." 

Sean slid an arm around Viggo, pulling him away from David. "Well, then, I will. For the moment. David, go take a shower. Viggo, get dressed. I'm going to call down for some food. Then maybe I can get a shower and find some clean clothes. And we'll talk more about this."

David stood, hand on the door knob. He had showered quickly then pulled on jeans and the wrinkled purple shirt. He did not look forward to this talk but told himself he had to go out, made himself open the door and walk through.

The mingled smells of food and coffee made him swallow, suddenly starving. Viggo, wearing his jeans and a cotton t-shirt, was sitting on a bar stool at the counter. Several plates of food, sandwiches and fruit, as well as a carafe, were arranged in front of him. David started across the room. Sean, standing between David and Viggo, turned and smiled.

"That was fast," David said.

"Mid-afternoon's slow, and I told them Aragorn was dying of hunger," Sean said. "Now, you sit and eat. Both of you. No talking until I get back."

"But--" Viggo started, and Sean swung around, pointing dramatically.

"No. Talking. Eat. I don't trust you two at the moment, but I need a shower. All right?"

Viggo shrugged, then nodded and picked up a sandwich.

Sean leaned forward, reaching for a sandwich, taking a huge bite. He turned, passing David and winking at him, mouth full.

David walked into the kitchen area, tile cool against his bare feet, and leaned against the counter. He took one of the thick sandwiches and set it down in front of him, lifting the bread to see it was meat and cheese with lettuce and tomato. He sighed and began peeling the cheese off the bread. He liked cheese sandwiches, or meat sandwiches, not both although right now he mostly wanted not to look at Viggo.

As always happened during tense moments, the sounds they made seemed to fill the room, unnaturally loud. David found himself straining to swallow quietly, half choked on his last bite, coughing. Eyes watering, he looked for something to wash it down. 

Viggo pushed a half full glass closer to David who grabbed it, drank.

"Thanks," he managed, taking a deep breath.

Viggo tilted his head, but said nothing. 

David turned to refill the glass with water from the water bottle that sat nearby. He made sure not to spill anything or fumble with the cap, then set the glass down.

He looked up. Viggo sat, arms folded on the counter, watching David. 

He jerked his hand back, knocking the glass over. Water splashed, but Viggo caught it before it spilled.

David couldn't help snorting with laughter, and they finished eating more easily although Viggo made sure he was the one who poured the coffee.

When Sean came out of the bedroom, hair damp, and wearing his jeans and t-shirt from the first day, David was halfway through his second cup of coffee, heavily milked and sugared.

Moving briskly, Sean shifted Viggo and David into the other room, directing David onto the couch and Viggo into the chair opposite. Then Sean settled down at the other end of the couch with another thick sandwich and a bottle of water.

Half amused, half worried, and half confused, David went along with it all. Viggo dropped easily into the chair, stretching his legs out, arms folded.

"Is that true, David? You've never said no to Viggo?"

David shook his head, shrugged. "I must have, sometime."

"I don't think he meant turning down the offer of a drink, or seconds at supper. Right, Viggo?"

Viggo frowned, but nodded.

"Sex, David. Ever told Viggo no?"

Had he? David thought. "I guess not," he said slowly. "Except that time in Wellington, with Andy. Before, well, before--"

"Before what?" Sean spoke thickly, swallowed.

"Before he came to dinner. With Andy. That was the only time. Never since." 

"I guess," David said.

"You've said no to me more than once," Sean said. "And I gather to Andy as well. But not to Viggo."

"And you think that means something?" David shifted.

"Viggo does. And now that I know about it, yes. I think it does. It all has to do with limits, what's a hard limit and what's not."

"What?" Viggo asked.

"A hard limit. Think about David's rules. He's changed from ropes only and breakaway knots, right? Over time. So that wasn't a hard limit. But the limit on hitting, wounding--" Sean looked at David, lifting an eyebrow.

David nodded. 

"So that's a hard limit. Maybe we needed to talk about this earlier, it's not something people always know when they start exploring bondage. What limits they have. It can change, over time and with different partners. And--" 

"What do you call what happened earlier?" Viggo's voice rose. "Wasn't that injury?"

"No," David said, firm. He didn't understand what was wrong with Viggo, but he was clear on that.

Viggo unfolded his arms, rubbed his forehead. "But it could have been worse. The ropes and the leather. I keep thinking about that."

"It wasn't intentional. That's the difference," Sean said. "Hell, sex is a physical activity. Sometimes very active. Most accidents happen in the home, remember. You could fall out of bed while just shagging someone and break an arm, but it wouldn't be intentional. What David's talking about is intentional and consensual, remember. Whipping, flogging, caning, or bloodwork. Cutting. I assume that's what you meant?" Sean looked at David who nodded.

"Oh." Viggo made a face.

"So I think we all agree that's a hard limit? For all of us?"

David nodded. Viggo said, "Yes."

"Right then." Sean set his empty plate on the floor, picked up the water bottle and unscrewed the cap. He tilted the bottle and drank.

"What about Viggo's breath play, David? Yes or no?"

"His what?" 

"Fuck, you don't know?" Sean leaned forward, body taut.

Shaking his head, David looked at Viggo who shook his head as well. 

"Do you even know what I'm talking about? Ever heard of autoerotic asphyxiation?"

Numbly, David nodded. 

"So breath play, breath control games, can be done solo or with a partner. With your hands. Or other body parts! Or toys even. Viggo?"

"I'm still not sure what you mean," Viggo said.

  
"Shit, you always go for David's throat. The collar. Your hands." Sean stopped, looked at David.

David sat, stunned, remembering. Viggo's hands. &lt;i&gt;One of Viggo’s hands, strong and calloused from hours of swordplay, was around his throat, the other in David’s pocket, rubbing against him.&lt;/i&gt; Never both hands, never any pain, just that gentle pressure at the base of his throat at certain times. Shifting against the smooth leather of the couch, David rubbed his damp hands against his jeans.

"You've never tried that with me, or I'd have said something. Like no." Sean said. "I thought it was something you both wanted."

Silence. 

David looked up to find them both watching him. 

"What?"

Sean rubbed a hand across his mouth. "Is this something you haven't been saying no to, but should? Has it ever gone too far? Ever end up unconscious?"

"No!" David stood, an awkward move caused by frustration. He waved one hand. "That's crazy, Sean. I don't know much, but I've heard about it, and what Viggo does--it's different." 

"Is it?"

Relaxed, Sean sat back against the couch. He wasn't smiling.

Turning to Viggo, David asked, "Isn't it?"

"I don't know. I don't know enough about it to say."

"Might want to do some research. I only know the basics. Not one of my things. But if you've never put David out, if he's never felt threatened," Sean shrugged. "It's not a problem. Something to think about though."

Viggo nodded, looking down at his clasped hands. 

Reassured, David sat. 

"If you're conscious of it, play with it, it's safer." Sean grinned at David. "Though I'm thinking you should seriously think of getting David his own collar!"

"A collar?" Viggo looked up, frowning. "You’ve mentioned that before."

"For some, well, traditionalists, you might say, it's a sign of commitment between a dom and a sub. It can mean a great deal. There's always a ceremony, and--"

"What's wrong, Sean?" Viggo rose from the chair, came around the coffee table to sit on the couch between them.

David pulled up his legs up, sliding back against the arm, as Viggo dropped down, watching. Something in the room had suddenly changed. 

"Wrong? Nothing." Sean gestured, an expansive wave of his right hand. "Just saying that given what I've seen, am seeing, you might want to consider it. They can be quite lovely you know, hand-made, very expensive, of course, but--" his voice trailed off as Viggo watched him.

All David could see was Viggo's back, the tension in neck and spine as he leaned forward, one arm spread along the back of the couch, one leg tucked under, his hand resting on Sean's leg. Sean's hair, his hand, one leg, could be seen beyond Viggo, almost like a negative, dark and light reversed. 

"What?" Sean shifted away from Viggo.

"You say it's a sign of commitment between a dom and a sub." Viggo's voice was quiet. "I assume that means it marks some sort of exclusive relationship. Where would that leave you, Sean?"

Silence filled the room. 

"Is that what you want?"

"Oh, fuck, no, Viggo." Sean sighed out, breath loud in the quiet, and leaned back against Viggo's arm, legs loose and sprawling. "I don't know. Maybe I'm afraid that's what you want."

"It's not." A pause, and then Viggo continued, not moving. "David, would you want that?"

"No," David said, not even having to think, wondering what Viggo had seen or heard that David had missed.

"So no more talk about collars. The commitment is among all three of us."

David breathed out, relieved.

* * *

After a moment of silence, Viggo shifted to lean against the back of the couch, Sean's head still on his arm, legs touching, and reached a hand out to David.

David slid forward, dropping one foot to the floor, clasping Viggo's hand. He pulled gently, tugging David closer, releasing him to drape an arm around David's neck. Warm, David relaxed against Viggo's shoulder, eyes closing.

Some time later, Viggo spoke quietly. "Have we talked enough?"

"We maybe have," Sean said. "But have you? And David?"

David stirred, feeling Viggo's arm tighten around him. "I don't think so," he said, reluctant but unable to forget Viggo's earlier emotion. Or the painting.

"Viggo? What do you need?"

The silence went on so long David almost started counting off minutes in his head. He would not speak.

"I guess, what you said earlier. Hard limits. Something we all know, something I know, won't, can't happen."

"Like what? I'm willing, and I'm sure David is, but given your reaction to the idea of breath play, I can probably list a dozen kinks you haven't even thought of that we could all agree would never happen, but I'm not sure that would help with what you fear."

Sean must have recovered, David realized, hearing the shift in voice and delivery.

"You must have had something in mind earlier, something that's happened, given what you said."

"What I said?"

"To David. 'What will it take,' you said. And you talked about the camping trip. The harness. What are you afraid of? What happened?"

Viggo tensed, muscles of arm and chest tightening against David who opened his eyes.

_The camping trip._ Wetting his lips, he said. "Is it about losing control somehow?"

A long exhalation. Then, "Yes," Viggo said.

After a moment, Sean leaned forward, peering across Viggo at David. "So is somebody going to fill me in? Camping trip? Viggo?"

"It was after you left. We went camping. I ended up tying David down."

David hoped Sean would not push too hard, not now. 

"But it all started earlier. When you first left, Sean, it was--bad. And then when I thought I was finally able to focus again, David came. That wasn't a problem, but the more he worked on Faramir, the more I was reminded of Boromir. And you."

Now that he had started talking, Viggo's arm and body relaxed against David.

"I couldn't sleep. I'd watch the rushes for hours. Fantasizing. And then walk until I was tired enough to have a chance to sleep."

Fascinated, David couldn't help interrupting. "About me?"

"More about Faramir." 

David remembered Viggo at the kitchen table in Idaho. _I think that sometimes things are better left as fantasies_.

"And then one night when I was walking, you ran into me. Drunk. You weren't even watching where you were going."

Flushing, David twitched. Viggo pulled him closer, voice dropping.

"You nearly fell. I grabbed your shoulders. You looked at me. I wasn't even sure you recognized me at first. Your shirt was stained, wrinkled, and you felt warm, almost hot, under my hands. You swayed forward. I thought, if I moved, you'd fall. I couldn't leave you. I told myself I had to make sure you got home safely. Walking you back, I could smell you, the smoke, and alcohol and sex was just an overlay, there was something more, something elusive like a flavour which catches in the back of your throat, disappearing just as you start to taste it."

Viggo swallowed, paused a moment. "Then you tripped and nearly fell right at your door. You grabbed me, just to avoid falling, but. . . . .you were wrapped around me, warm and there and strong and laughing, and then you invited me in. I kissed you, I couldn't help it. And you. . "

David held his breath, afraid to move, to break that silence. 

"Remember in Idaho, when I asked if you thought you could have said no that night?"

Surprised at the question, David blinked, nodded. 

"Could you?"

"I don't know." David wanted to give Viggo the reassurance he needed but was sure he'd be able to sense a lie. "Maybe." 

"How you responded, what I thought--I had to leave. I thought that would be it, you'd wake up and probably not remember, work things out with Elijah, everything would go back the way it was."

"But?" Sean's voice startled David, quiet as it was.

"But then Andy started talking." 

"Andy." Sean's voice was grim.

"About what had happened in the alley."

David slid out from under Viggo's arm, turned to sit, cross-legged, knowing he had to see Viggo's face. "So it was Andy."

Shaking his head, Viggo looked at David. "Not the way you think. You asked if I would have done anything except for Andy. I guess the answer is no, but not because I didn't want you. It was because I didn't know what would happen if I was alone with you. Andy made it. . .safe." Viggo's body was relaxed, his voice even.

"Andy made it safe. Now I've heard everything," Sean said.

"No. You haven't." Viggo shifted, pulling his arm back across his body. "You don't know what happened in the woods afterwards. The first time I was alone with David, without Andy."

Running a hand through his hair, David frowned. He was starting to see the pattern, he thought.

"Tell him, David."

"No," David said, shocked. "I can't."

"Didn't you say you tied him down on the camping trip?"

Viggo shook his head, tilting it back, eyes closed. "No. The camping trip was later. This was before you came back for your pick-up shots."

"One thing you two have is a thing for trees and woods," Sean said, his voice light. "I still think you can take this back to nature thing too far. I much prefer beds."

David saw Sean's face was intent, serious. He looked at David, made a small beckoning gesture with one hand as the other rested on Viggo's thigh.

"So what happened?"

Viggo was silent, lips tight.

Sean shrugged at David.

David took a deep breath and began. "Viggo asked me to pose, in the woods. I said yes. After a while, I got bored and said I had an idea for a new pose, 'Nude Napping,' or something like that."

Sean chuckled.

"So I lay down. I thought--when Viggo came over, he--" David paused, trying to think how to say it. "I guess I reminded him of you."

"Me?"

"Your death scene."

Sean's mouth opened as he stared at David, expression shifting from the earlier amusement and concern to intense. He stared a moment, then spoke.

"Fuck."

David nodded. Viggo stirred, opening his eyes, and said, "That's the problem. If it wasn't rape, it was damn close."

"It wasn't." David slid closer, his hand on Viggo's shoulder, gripping. "I told you that night. I went up there expecting sex. Why do you think I lay down? It was a little rough, maybe, but--"

Viggo shook his head. 

David stared at him, frustrated, hand dropping away.

"Let me see if I have it straight," Sean said. "First encounter, David drunk on tequila which is how we got our safeword. Then next, Andy being a safety blanket during your first time. Third, nude photography and rough sex. All this before I show up for what I thought was going to be a few days of pick-up shooting and hanging out with Viggo, mostly in bed. Then came our little adventure in the hotel, followed at some point by a camping trip where Viggo ties David down and I assume fucks him?"

David nodded, flushing, feeling the heat burning through his body at the memory. 

"It sounds so simple put that way." Viggo sounded tired.

"Simple, no. I'm just trying to get the chronology straight. I didn't know what I was walking into with that proposition. And the harness, in England, later, that's part of it too? Pushing the limits?"

"Pushing something."

Shrugging, Sean said, "You really like David bound in leather, the harness, the straps. You like him on his knees. And you like fucking him. As far as I can tell David likes all that as well, so it must be in you, your fear you'll lose control."

Viggo nodded, body still as he watched Sean.

Voice dropping so low David could barely hear, Sean said, "You never answered my question earlier, about the fantasy. Is it one you have?"

Holding his breath, muscles in belly tight, David waited to hear what Viggo would say.

Finally, he spoke. "Yes."

"A rape fantasy. I've told mine to David."

"You've what?" Viggo's voice rose and he sat up, turning to face Sean who nodded. 

"Sure. Twice. Once in Idaho, once here, the first night. David? You ever had any kind of fantasy where you're being forced to do something?"

Caught in both their gazes, David could only nod, once. 

"So tell us about this fantasy." Sean slid closer to Viggo, arm around him. 

"No," said Viggo. 

A pause, then Sean said, "David. Turn around and lie down across Viggo."

Confused, David stared. Sean nodded, patting his own thigh. "Face up."

David sighed, and turned, pulling his legs onto the couch and pushing himself back until he felt warmth behind him. He lowered himself, cautious, shifting his hips, until he was lying in Viggo's lap, head in Sean's.

"Viggo, put your hand on David's cock." Sean's hand pressed on David's chest, and he felt the pressure echo through his body. He was hardening just thinking about it.

When Viggo finally laid his hand gently on David, tentative, he slid his hand over Viggo's to press it against him. 

"Tell us about your fantasy."

"Why?"

David thought Viggo sounded irritated, but he wasn't trying to pull his hand away. David shut his eyes to keep from being distracted by the inverted view of Sean and Viggo's faces above him.

"You said it. How something, what, broke, in Idaho? Was that the time under the tree?"

A pause. "Yes," Viggo said.

"It's like I said about breath play. It's safer to bring it out, talk about it. You don't talk before launching into one of your scenes. Nothing's gone really wrong, yet, but the whole point of talking beforehand is letting people set limits if they need to."

"But it's not--"

"A scene? No. But is it bleeding into scenes?"

"I guess. All right. It all goes back to that night, how you responded, what I wanted to do, and thought about, dreamed about when I could finally sleep. And all the shots in Ithilien, the trees, and then you came to Idaho and, and--"

"Started making love to your tree?" said Sean.

Viggo paused, then laughed. "I guess."

"That's what you painted. Where'd you hang that picture, David?"

"My bedroom." 

"Figures. And then what, Vig?"

Voice lowering, laughter gone, Viggo spoke slowly. "It's like a montage, David in the harness, tied to the tree."

Remembering smooth silver-grey bark under his hands, the bulk of the limb under him, Sean pressing him against the trunk, David tensed, pushing up against Viggo's hand, hardening. 

He rubbed David, hand rasping against denim, and spoke more easily. "I have all the images, in my mind, from the photographs, in the woods, of sun and shadow dappling your skin, of leather ties holding you, the different textures, the roughness of fissured bark that marked your skin."

"Poetic, but not that different from what we've done," said Sean.

Viggo's body tensed and he started to lift his hand off David who pressed down, knowing they were coming to the heart of it all.

"No. But it's like you said earlier, no games, no safeword. I tie him to the tree. Faramir. I make it Faramir. He says no, he tries to fight, but it's no use."

"You make it Faramir?" asked Sean.

"Yes."

"Not David?"

"No."

"I'm confused. Do you want to run that scene with Faramir?"

"No!"

"David, do you?"

Shifting, uneasy on some level, still hard, remembering the night before, David said, "I don't know." 

Sean snorted. "You &lt;i&gt;_can't_&lt;/i&gt; say no to him, can you?"

David sat, pushing Viggo's hand away, sliding out from under Sean's, standing, turning to look at Sean.

"I said, I don't know. And I don't. I know this is something different. It's one thing to play with harnesses and straps but this--" he stepped back, bumped into the table. Frustrated, he shoved it away, then knelt in front of Viggo, reaching for his hands. 

Viggo pulled back, so David placed his hands on Viggo's legs, resting palms lightly on denim-covered thighs. "We've played a lot with the idea of our characters, and sometimes it was fun and sometimes kinky, occasionally weird, but this is different." David emphasized his accent, pitching his voice slightly higher, speaking quickly. Faramir's voice was deeper, slower, with an English accent Peter had wanted as a standard when characters weren't using Elvish. "You're talking about making it Faramir. But it's not like what we've done before. I don't think it is Faramir, or well, if it is, I'm still playing him, and that's part of the problem. Sean, will you tell him your fantasy? The one you've told me?"

Sitting back, releasing Viggo, Sean shrugged. "Sure. It started as half a joke, after a backrub, saying I'd chain David to my bed for daily backrubs. And sex. He seemed to like hearing about it, like the sling, remember?"

Viggo nodded, watching David. 

"So I said, I'd like to keep him chained up, could fuck him whenever, however I wanted, even," Sean paused. 

David looked at him, surprising a different expression, perhaps embarrassment, before Sean continued. 

"Even said I'd bring in two mates to fuck him, and watch." Sean shifted, folding his arms. "Is that enough?"

David shrugged. "I remember a few more details," he said.

"Well if you want to get naked and lie on the couch, I'll see what I can do, but otherwise, well, let's just say I need some inspiration. And a more receptive audience."

"OK." David worked very hard to keep the grin inside from showing. He'd remember this for future use, he thought.

Looking back at Viggo, seeing the faint frown, feeling the tension under the denim, against David's hands, made it easy not to smile. 

"I'd almost forgotten, but I did say no, that time in the woods, after, not the word, but I stopped you doing what you were doing, remember?"

Frown disappearing, Viggo nodded, once.

"That's a hard limit then. I told you that night, if it happened again, we were over. What happened that day wasn't rape. But it was all about your pain, your, well, fantasy. I don't think it mattered who was lying there, did it? Any warm body would have done."

"I don't think--I don't know."

"Even Andy?" asked Sean, voice light.

David glared at him. "Sean, would you please shut up for a while?"

Sean blinked, opened his mouth, then shrugged and raised his hands, settling back against the couch. He nodded at David who turned back to Viggo.

"You think, or feel, as if what happened on the camping trip, then in Idaho, was the same or close to it, as what happened that day?"

Viggo nodded.

"I don't." 

Sitting forward, Viggo gripped David's wrists, voice urgent. "Why not?"

David searched for the words, feeling as if he was walking a narrow path over a fall onto sharp rocks. "On the camping trip, you didn't know how to tie breakaway knots, but you said you'd untie me if I used the safeword. I believe you meant it. Did you?"

Viggo nodded.

"And in Idaho, you gave me every chance to stop it. And I didn't. Not because I couldn't say no, because I didn't want to. You said after you thought I wanted more of Sean's kind of dominance, that you wanted to give me that. That was half right, I guess."

"Half-right?"

"You lost control that day in the woods. But the other times, it felt, I felt, like you were more in control, more aware of your power, than other times--more willing to be dominant. Like last night and earlier today. That's the difference. You're willing to exert your power, it's not like you've lost control."

Viggo's grip loosened, but David turned his hands, gripping Viggo's. "I wanted more of your kind of dominance. Maybe you weren't sure how to give it, maybe you thought it felt like losing control. I don't know. I only know what I felt, how much I felt as if you were seeing me, not Sean. Not Boromir's brother."

Viggo jerked and David tightened his grip.

"So I don't know what I think about some rape fantasy scene. I told Sean I didn't want to have his scene either. I'd want to talk more. You need to talk more. But I don't know that I'd turn down a bondage scene involving you and that tree the next time we're in Idaho." Feeling Viggo relax, David looked at Sean and said, "And you can bring the costumes, if you want."

"Thanks. I think." Sean didn't move, didn't change expression.

Looking back to Viggo, David continued. "But none of it will work if you don't trust me. To say what I want, what works, what doesn't, what I don't want." Pausing, David wondered if this was the best time, mentally shrugged, and went on because they were leaving in the next day. "Sean's right about needing to talk." 

Releasing Viggo's hands, David slide down to sit cross-legged on the floor, looking at Sean. "And what about you?"

"Me?"

"Talking. You owe me one."

Sean shook his head, looking confused.

"The other night, at the party. You said I'd talk but slid away sometimes. So do you, remember?"

"So?"

"So I talked that night. Now I have a question for you."

Sean nodded.

"You said something to me, in England once, about the problem of not realizing until too late that you'd gotten into something you couldn't get out of. Do you remember?"

"I don't think--"

"You'd just shown me the sling. Which I said I didn't want because I couldn't get out of it." 

Licking his lips, Sean shifted. He looked at Viggo, then back to David. "The sling?"

"Yeah."

"You said you didn't want to try, yeah. I remember that. That's probably what I meant."

David shook his head. He remembered the tone of Sean's voice, the look on his face for that fleeting moment. But if he wouldn't talk, he wouldn't. 

"Then, can I ask another?"

Hardly waiting to see Sean's nod, David hurried the next question, one he'd always wondered about. "Why'd you insist on having dinner together that night, in Wellington?"

Viggo stirred on the couch, opened his mouth, hesitated, then leaned back. "I've wondered myself," he finally said.

"The way you were looking at David that night in the bar," Sean said. "We met him there but then you didn't talk about him. You talked about everybody else. The David-shaped hole was apparent."

David waited through the silence as did Viggo.

Sean sighed, short and emphatic, then continued. "So I talked to David. He wouldn't talk either. I had to do something."

"Why?" 

David was glad Viggo had asked. 

"Oh....because you were wound tighter than I'd ever seen you. Even in bed, even sleeping, you kept mumbling--" Sean turned to face David directly. "Have you ever noticed he mumbles in his sleep? You can't make any sense out of it. But he was mumbling even more those nights."

David nodded. That didn't seem important, but he wasn't going to say so.

"And then there you were, brother mine, jumping out of your skin every time I even touched you--"

"You were groping me on set!"

Sean shrugged and went on, not responding. "Any time I touched you. Who could resist seeing what would happen if I got you two into bed?"

It was happening again. David had no idea about how to break through and wondered if he should just go to bed. It had been a long day.

"Bullshit." 

His mouth dropping open, David stared at Viggo who was leaning toward Sean, hand gripping his leg. He swore casually, but Viggo rarely did. 

"You don't get to do this," Viggo continued, voice low but charged. "Not after all the lectures on how important talking is, not after tying David up so he couldn't run away, those were your words, not after what's just happened. You don't get to deflect, not here, not now."

Stunned, David waited for the explosion.

Sean sat, mouth open, for what seemed like an age. He finally shook himself, and started to speak. "I don't know what --"

David thought his voice sounded uncertain.

"Don't talk about what I was doing or what David was doing. When you asked me, I told you about David. We always knew it couldn't be exclusive, not with what we do, but I thought we'd agreed to be honest."

"We did. I was." 

Concentrating on breathing as quietly as he could and not moving, David watched, fascinated. He'd never known for sure what Viggo had told Sean, what Sean had guessed. He wondered when Sean had asked.

"I thought you were too. Until now."

Jolting up, Sean pushed Viggo's hand away. "Fuck, Viggo, that's --"

Sliding closer, Viggo gripped Sean's shoulders, pushing him back against the arm of the couch. "Why, Sean? That's all David asked."

"You wanted it too."

Viggo nodded. "I did. Yes. But why did you want it? All three of us?"

"David was--"

"I know what David was. And what he thought about Boromir." Viggo grinned down at David who shrugged. It was true.

"But why did you want all three? If it was just David, you could have tried--"

"I did. He said no."

David couldn't help laughing, as much at the expression on Viggo's face as at the tone in Sean's voice.

Viggo released Sean and sat back on the couch. After a moment, cautious, Sean straightened up, running a hand through his hair. 

"He did?"

Sean nodded. 

"When?"

Sean gestured to David, and Viggo looked at him.

"That afternoon, in my trailer, before you called about dinner." David waited a moment then, as neither of the others said anything, shrugged and continued. "Sean came over after we finished working on the scene and asked me about dinner." Remembering Sean's hands on him, then and earlier in the scene, David shifted, tugging at the leg of his jeans. It wasn't surprising that footage never made it into the film. 

Sean's lips quirked. "To fill in a few gaps, I kissed him, was rudely rejected, and then we talked. He didn't want to spend time with me because of you. Right?"

"I guess." David found it hard to remember what his reasons had been. The night in the hotel had been the start of so much that was different.

"That was before you asked me about David?"

Sean nodded. 

"But you already knew from what David said?"

Sighing, Sean slid down enough to rest his head on the back of the couch, stretching his legs out, brushing against David's. "No. I knew before. Before we talked. David just confirmed it." Sean rubbed his head.

"I--it was bad for me too. Leaving New Zealand, leaving you. Going back to England and then off to the Netherlands. I was working on another film, but it wasn't enough. I jumped at the chance to come back for pickups when Pete called. The whole trip back I was imagining what it was going to be like, and then, of course, it was different, we were different. And what I said, about you not talking about David, that was fucking true, damn it. It," Sean paused a long moment and when he spoke again, his voice had dropped, "it was frightening. Because you didn't want to tell me."

"I didn't know how." Viggo's voice was low, and he avoided David's look.

Sean shrugged, eyes closed. "That's why. I was…..worried. It's too easy to have a fling on location and then never see each other again. Never want to. It happens all the time. And I was afraid that might happen with you."

David sat still, breathing through his mouth, not wanting to make a sound. He'd never heard Sean sound like this although, he frowned, trying to remember, the time in England. Maybe that was it, what Sean wouldn't say then, what he wouldn't have said now except for Viggo.

Sean sat, shaking his head, running his hands through his hair, leaning forward. "And I didn't want that to happen. So I guess I pushed harder than I realized then. I never expected…."

Silence filled the room until Viggo spoke. "Never expected what?"

"Any of it. Whatever….this…..is."

"Is that bad?" David was confused. Whatever he'd feared, whatever the complications with Viggo, he'd never expected anything like this with Sean.

"I don't know. Not bad, no, but…"

"Not under your control?" Viggo's voice was dry, his mouth quirked.

Sean jerked straight, staring at Viggo a moment before falling back against the couch again, shaking his head. "Oh, fuck, yeah, you're right. Again."

"I told you."

Sean flung an arm across his face and mumbled something.

David released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and looked at Viggo, shrugging and raising his hands. If Viggo hadn't been smiling, David would have been worried.

"We've had this discussion before, more or less, during the first year of filming. The games or whatever, the rules, the culture, seem to expect that doms and subs naturally pair up. And Sean's always been a dom. A top even when not in the games. And…"

"And so are you," Sean interrupted Viggo, arm dropping down to rest on Viggo's leg. And you," Sean pointed his free hand at David. "Like I told you. Resistance. I don't think you're really a sub. I think you're a switch."

David shrugged, feeling as if he was being accused of something, but he didn't know what. "So?"

"So like I told you then, we have to write our own rules," Viggo overrode Sean's attempt to speak. "And we will. But not tonight. I think what we all need now is sleep."

* * *

David pulled the covers back to slide into bed beside Sean who pulled him close, kissed him. David's hand rested on Sean's chest. The kiss, warm and brief, ended and David lay back, resting his head on Sean's arm. The sound of water running stopped and Viggo came out of the bathroom, the light from the open door making David blink before Viggo turned it off. 

A dark shadow, Viggo crossed to the bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up over them. David reached out to hold Viggo who curled up next to him, arm sliding over David's belly. 

Sliding into warm depths, floating, David felt a vagrant thought surface, like a silver flash in dark water. _His fantasies were about Sean. But his dreams always had Viggo_.


End file.
